


For Where Your Treasure Is

by Anonymous



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Katsuki Yuuri, Dragon Victor Nikiforov, First Time, Forced Marriage, Human Katsuki Yuuri, Interspecies Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, POV Alternating, Pining, Smut, Top Victor Nikiforov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-08-03 07:17:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 74,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16321634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Victor Nikiforov, lord of a dragon clan on the brink of war, needs a healer, fast. With no other choice, he forces a reluctant Yuuri Katsuki to be his. He says it's for the good of his people, but his dragon-half—and his heart—have other plans...





	1. Chapter 1

They came on the tail of a storm. First came the sound: the thundering hooves of an army, pounding closer and closer. Then the smell of wet earth, churned from the ground by their black steeds. At last came the shadow that swooped overhead, looming like an omen. It covered the village in dreadful darkness before the creature that cast it dropped to the ground, shrinking as it landed gracefully on two long legs. It revealed itself to be a man, dressed in gleaming silken clothing, the wind swirling his silver hair.

The crowd that had gathered at the first sign of their approach huddled together, silent and wary, eyeing the army that stood just outside the village perimeter, and their leader. It was the first time for many of them to see a dragon, let alone be so close to one. The army along their border stood in perfect formation, not a single line crooked, not a single foot out of place. Their well-dressed leader stepped forward and addressed the gathered villagers.

“I am in search of a healer,” he said, his voice pleasant and smooth as he scanned the crowd, “I was told the best healer in the land would be found in this village.” But aside from nervous glances and shuffling, the crowd offered no information. The man tapped his foot in impatience and let the silence grow until finally, a young girl, messy-haired and defiant, stepped forward, ignoring the hands trying to hold her back.

“He’s not here,” she said, loud and indignant, “Leave us alone.”

The man narrowed his eyes, glaring at the girl until she looked away, knowing she’d been caught in a lie. Then he turned and strolled off, as if he believed her.

“Raze it to the ground,” he said casually as he passed his troops, his order drawing gasps from the crowd behind him, “Then fetch the healer.” The villagers’ panicked cries were drowned out by the ringing sound of metal sliding against metal as the troops unsheathed their swords in unison. With the first step of their horses’ hooves, the ground shook and the villagers turned as one to flee.

“Leave them alone!” a man cried out, his clear tone echoing through the air. The retreating troop leader stopped and turned, his hand raised to halt the army’s progress, his eyes drawn to the approaching figure. The speaker was dressed in blue, the hem of his tunic fluttering as he hurried to the front of the crowd, placing himself between the invading army and the village people.

“I stand for the village leader,” he said, lifting his chin, “You must go through me if you want to destroy our village.” Under the harsh light of the noonday sun, his large dark eyes flashed red, the color high on his cheeks. Wind tousled his black hair, blowing it back to reveal a finely sculpted face with pleasing features that frowned sternly at the invaders. Awareness sharpened among the troops, their leader’s bright blue gaze focusing on this new figure.

“Who are you?”

“I am Yuuri Katsuki, son of Toshiya, head of the village,” he said, his hand hovering over the short sword strapped to his belt, “What do you want with us?”

“I am—”

“I know who you are,” Yuuri said, cutting off the troop leader as he started to speak, “You’re Victor Nikiforov, the—”

Mila, Victor’s lieutenant, whipped her blade from its scabbard, her indignation barely contained as she swung it upwards and rested its sharp edge against the pristine skin of Yuuri’s throat. Victor dragged his gaze away from Yuuri’s lips—though set in a firm line, they still managed to look soft and plush—just in time to see a thin red line appear on Yuuri’s throat where the blade just kissed it. He mourned the necessity of marring such fine skin in order to establish their positions.

“It’s Lord Nikiforov to you,” Mila hissed. Yuuri pressed his lips tightly together, refusing to address Victor with his title. Under normal circumstances, Victor would have allowed Mila to force Yuuri into submission, but this time, he was distracted by the angry, crimson blade wound on the impudent man’s throat. He watched, amazed, as it slowly disappeared, leaving behind smooth, unmarked skin. Though his men were too well-trained to react, Victor knew they had seen it by the way the atmosphere around the contingent shifted.

“You’re a Healer,” Victor said in awe, “A true Healer.” And a beautiful one at that. Mila drew away her blade in hesitation, nonplussed at the revelation. Yuuri winced and an uncomfortable grimace flitted across his face. Victor could see that he was suspicious, guarded, as he should be. Victor had never met a Healer in his lifetime, considerable though it was. They were even rarer than dragonkin who could fully transform, rarer than Victor himself. And after long days and nights of searching, after countless disappointments, he had almost given up hope of finding any sort of healer, let alone one with Yuuri’s powers.

Could Yuuri be the solution he’d been looking for? Unbidden, the thought that Yuuri could be the answer to his own personal prayers invaded his mind. Greed clawed at Victor, desire for Yuuri’s unique abilities, and beneath it—darker, burning, powerful—a desire for Yuuri himself. Though they were not often in sync, Victor could feel his dragon-half sit up and, after a lightning-quick appraisal of Yuuri’s lone form, nudge him impatiently in his mind, signifying its approval.

They were both eager to lay claim to the man standing before them, though Victor repeated to himself that he only wanted Yuuri’s healing powers. He wasn’t tempted by Yuuri’s long, slim legs, his tight boots molded to his shapely calves. Nor was he tempted by the sweet curve of his lips and the way they pursed so invitingly. His dragon-half growled at him, impatiently demanding that Victor cease his staring and act.

He gave in without protest, half-formed strategies already darting through his mind.

“I am in need of your—”

“I am sorry but I must decline,” Yuuri said at once, not sounding at all sorry.

Victor sighed inwardly. If Yuuri’s constant interruptions were any indication, he had started off on the wrong foot and it was too late to change the impression he had given. Time was running out and he couldn’t waste it trying to talk his way into Yuuri’s good graces. He had no other choice but to force Yuuri to do his bidding. His dragon-half nodded vigorously, so close to its goal that it didn’t care how it would be achieved.

“The time has come for me to find a mate,” Victor said casually, forcing himself to sound relaxed, conversational. Yuuri blinked rapidly, thrown by the sudden change in topic. He looked flustered as he recovered and Victor wanted nothing more than to kiss him.

“I-is that so?”

“Yes,” Victor said, nodding affably, “and I want it to be you.”

“Me?” Yuuri squeaked, “But I am a man.”

“I am well aware of that.” Victor let his gaze wander slowly, suggestively, upwards from the soles of Yuuri’s boots, lingering in the folds of his trousers, on the open collar of his tunic, until he was staring straight into Yuuri’s large brown eyes. Yuuri had turned an intriguing shade of pink, and Victor wondered if that color would spread elsewhere.

He smiled, letting the heat that simmered in the pit of his belly rise into his eyes, his dragon-half purring with anticipation when Yuuri’s lips parted in shock. Victor admired their rosy shade, imagined them open and soft beneath his own. Yuuri, as if aware of the direction Victor’s thoughts had taken, snapped his mouth closed again, his brows furrowing.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he sputtered, “Don’t you need a woman to bear you heirs? I, as a  _ man, _ cannot have children.”

“I have no need of a woman,” Victor said smoothly, dismissing Yuuri’s protest, “The succession for my position has already been taken care of. However, if you are so opposed, then I will gladly select a member of your village as my mate.”

Victor pretended to study the gathered villagers with deep concentration while Yuuri floundered. He pointed at a young woman standing near the front. Though she couldn’t hear what they were saying, she immediately looked panicked, turning in fear to the man standing next to her, clutching at his arm with her hands.

“That one,” Victor said, as Yuuri turned to see whom he had selected. The woman’s daughters had started to cry, clinging to her skirts. One of them was the girl who had spoken up first, telling Victor to leave. “With her looks, she will do nicely.”

Yuuri whipped his head back around. “She has a family!”

Victor grinned, the smile not reaching his eyes. “That can be easily taken care of.”

The emotions that flashed across Yuuri’s face were fascinating to watch: shock, horror, disgust, fear, and finally, determination. When he glared at Victor, their eyes connecting, Victor felt the heat, the power of it, shoot like a bolt straight to his groin. He was glad then that his tunic was long and covered the front of his trousers.

But Yuuri didn’t give in, not yet. Victor played his last card, wincing inwardly as he did so.

“All of your villagers can be easily taken care of,” he said meaningfully, tilting his head ever so slightly towards his waiting troops. He watched the color drain from Yuuri’s face.

“You would go that far?” Yuuri asked, almost in a whisper.

“Yes.” Lives were at stake and if he didn't do this, many would die. Though he was already regretting his cruel facade, Victor was desperate enough to give the only answer he could.

Yuuri shook his head. “Don’t,” he said shortly, reluctantly, “I will be your mate.”

“And my healer?”

Yuuri grimaced, fighting the pressure to acquiesce, then swallowed, giving up. Greedily, Victor tracked the movement of his throat, admiring the way it bobbed, imagining the feel of it against his lips.

“And your healer.”

Victor smiled.

 

* * *

Victor knew Yuuri was expecting their engagement to last longer than the few minutes it took to signal for Mila to fetch a rope. From the bag that hung off the side of her horse, she took out the sorriest excuse for a rope that he had ever seen. It was thick and uneven, caked in dirt and grime, the ends beginning to fray. But it would have to do.

Victor held out both hands to Yuuri and for a brief instance, a rebellious gleam in Yuuri’s eyes had him braced to fight. But it passed as quickly as it came and Yuuri reluctantly placed his hands in Victor’s. They were cold and trembling, but Victor could see how hard Yuuri was trying to hide it. At Victor’s nod, Mila gingerly looped the rope around their clasped hands.

“I’m sorry for the rush,” Victor said apologetically. Yuuri’s face remained impassive but his eyes were alert, darting between Victor’s face, Mila’s progress, and back. “I am afraid I don’t have the time to woo you properly.”

Yuuri scoffed. “There is no need for the pretense,” he said, “You have your healer, like you wanted.” His face was stony but Victor could see the pulse beating in his throat. It wasn’t a good start to their bond, but he had no choice.

“I’m sorry,” Victor said again, unable to find the right words to explain himself, or the time to do it. He wasn’t sure how much the outside world had seen of the current conflict between the dragon clans, but he didn’t want Yuuri bolting before they were bonded. His dislike was strong enough already. Throwing him face-first into a war would destroy all hope of a strong bond.

Yuuri opened his mouth to reply right as Mila stepped back, her task done, and he snapped it shut again. He stared at their bound hands as if the rope were alive and would strike at any moment. Had Victor not felt the immense pressure of his short time, he would have apologized a third time.

Victor could feel Yuuri’s erratic pulse through the thin skin of his wrist. Panic was setting in, which he understood all too well. For a wild moment, he wanted to throw off the ropes, to give up on this venture. If he begged on his knees for Yuuri’s help, if he apologized for his rash proposal and promised to bring him back to his village after the war was over, would Yuuri accept him? Already, the dragon inside him was protesting. It had claimed Yuuri and it wouldn’t give him up for anything, not even to soothe the turmoil in Victor’s mind.

His clan came first, Victor told himself sternly. If they survived, he would do everything in his power to make Yuuri glad of their bonding. And if they didn’t, well…the point was moot. Victor could feel Yuuri tensing, could see his face blanching of color. If he didn’t calm down, their binding ceremony wouldn’t succeed. Victor thought quickly.

“Can you feel my heart beating, Yuuri?” Victor asked, his voice soft. Yuuri’s eyes snapped to his and after a few quick breaths, he nodded, his hands clenching tightly, fingers digging into Victor’s.

“Good,” Victor said, keeping his voice low and soothing, “Focus on that. Try to match your breathing with mine.” Victor stared deeply into Yuuri’s eyes, using every ounce of will he had to send calming thoughts. Slowly, Yuuri followed his directions, his hands relaxing, his breaths slowing, his eyes losing their panicked sheen.

Then, in a single instant, Victor felt their pulses sync and it was all he could hear: a great rushing, pounding sound that reverberated through his body. He knew Yuuri felt it too, by the way his eyes widened, and by the look of shock on his face.

From the ground rose a great wind that shot up through their bound hands, sending the trailing ends of the rope flying. Immediately, Yuuri closed his eyes, his hair flowing upwards, his grip tightening on Victor’s until his knuckles turned white. He looked so vulnerable, so small against the force of the binding wind that Victor wanted only to protect him. His own eyes watered with the strain of keeping them open until he shut them as well.

He knew from watching binding ceremonies before that by now, the rope would have started to glow, the light from it blindingly bright to the onlookers. It was tight and only grew tighter, heating up until it burned into Victor’s hands like a brand. He wanted to shake the rope loose—knew Yuuri felt the same desire—but he held fast to Yuuri’s hands. He couldn’t lose him now, not when he was so close to achieving his goal.

Just as suddenly as it had started, the wind died and the rope went back to being just an ordinary rope, albeit old and dirty. The heat from the binding dissipated in an instant as a breeze blew over their hands, bringing them cool, soothing relief. Victor watched as Mila stepped forward to untie them, avidly curious about the results.

Each new undone loop revealed more and more of the effects of the binding ceremony. Stripes of icy blue patterned Yuuri’s hands and wrists, sparkling like diamonds under the sun. On Victor’s were lines of soft, velvety brown that gleamed quietly as flexed his hands. Slowly, the bondmarks faded in color until their hands were back to normal, but Victor could still feel them there—clear indicators that he was bound to Yuuri, and Yuuri to him.

Yuuri had barely looked up to speak when he gasped and stepped back—the movement so sudden that Victor nearly lost his hold on him—his gaze locked behind Victor. Once he was sure Yuuri wouldn’t run away, Victor turned his head and caught a glimpse of his own wings, which had—unbeknownst to him—erupted from his back during the binding ceremony. Victor frowned in confusion.

This had never happened to him before and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. Though Victor was capable of transforming fully into a dragon, he had never been able to partially shift. Perplexed, Victor flexed his wings—testing their response to his human form—and found that they moved just as they did when he was in full dragon form. Sunlight bounced off their impressive span, the many facets of his silver-white hide throwing rainbows all over the ground.

Cautiously, Victor folded his wings tightly against himself until he felt them shrink and meld with his back, returning him to full human form. He looked carefully back at Yuuri, bracing himself for fear or disgust; but Yuuri looked positively delighted, almost brimming over with excitement, his hostility temporarily forgotten.

“How does that work?” Yuuri asked—almost demanded—emphatically, his predicament slipping his mind, “Where do they go when you put them away?”

Victor chuckled, half relieved, half delighted.

“I’ll show them to you sometime,” he said. Yuuri smiled, his eyes softening, and for a moment, Victor was dazzled. What had he gotten himself into, bonding with a creature as lovely as this? Even his dragon-half was silent and still, unable to do anything except admire. Then awareness seeped back into Yuuri’s eyes and the smile slipped from his face. He pulled his hands out of Victor’s grasp and turned away.

Icy shards entered Victor’s chest, and he knew then how his enemies felt when he breathed on them. The piercing cold pricked at Victor’s heart, chasing away the visions of a bright future that had flooded his mind.

“I’ll go pack my things,” Yuuri said quietly as he headed towards the village, the gathered people already rushing forward to offer words of support and helping hands. Victor stopped himself from following, letting the coldness in his chest spread over him until he was numb, until he couldn’t feel the heat of the sun shining down on him.

 

* * *

The trip back to Victor’s castle was slower than he was used to. Victor knew Yuuri wouldn’t be accustomed to the bruising pace his troops usually rode at, so he slowed them all down to a brisk trot. Yuuri didn’t seem to notice, however. His hands fidgeted endlessly with the reins of his horse, but it was well-trained enough to trot along placidly with the rest of the group.

Yuuri was silent the entire trip, his face downcast and unreadable. Victor tried a few times to start a conversation but his efforts earned him no more than a perfunctory nod in return. So he stopped and let himself drift into silence as well.

It was for the good of his people, he reminded himself. Yes, he felt entirely too drawn Yuuri, but that was secondary to his need for Yuuri’s skills. At least, that was what he was trying to make himself believe. His dragon-half snorted, reminding him that they were bonded now, and all that was left to complete the ceremony was to lay claim to Yuuri’s body, a thought that made Victor shiver. Sternly, he pushed away the tingling in his fingers, the anticipation in the back of his throat. The clan came first, he repeated to himself, they always would. He had made the right decision for his people. If it was also the best decision for himself, then so be it.

A horn sounded in the distance, it’s deep tone echoing across the plains. The castle guards on duty had spotted their returning party. Victor raised a hand in greeting, too far away to be heard.

Immediately after his bonding ceremony with Yuuri, while he went to pack, Victor had sent three riders ahead to inform the castle of the new development and to ask that preparations be made. They galloped out to him now to give him their own news as he rode in.

“My lord,” the first began, “the castle sends its regards.” Victor waved it away.

“Have Georgi and his men returned?” he asked.

“No, my lord, but the scout has.” The rider hesitated and Victor’s eyes narrowed. He was suddenly aware that Yuuri’s attention had been caught and he was listening along.

“He says Georgi’s party is badly injured,” the rider continued, “They don’t know how long it will take to get back.”

Victor cursed. He had miscalculated the reconnaissance mission he’d given Georgi and his men. It was a miracle they had managed to escape the defending army when they did. But with their current condition and the precarious situation they were in, if they didn’t make it back to the safety of the castle soon, they might not make it at all.

“Prepare supplies and my gear,” Victor said, “and gather our fastest riders. We need to bring them home as soon as possible.”

“Yes, my lord.” The first rider saluted, then pivoted on his horse and headed back to the castle at full gallop. Victor watched him go until he was hidden by the dust clouds in his wake.

The second rider took his place.

“Sara has a feast underway,” she said shortly, without preamble. Victor sighed. Trust Sara to decide to celebrate his bonding in full style, regardless of the circumstances. He only hoped Yuuri wouldn’t see it in poor taste.

“She would also like you to know that she has prepared everything you’ll need for…this evening.” Victor clenched his jaw with such force that he almost cracked his teeth. His groin tightened involuntarily at the thought of that evening and he didn’t dare glance at Yuuri, knowing he was still listening. He nodded stiffly and hastily waved away the rider.

The third rider took her place.

“Yakov would like to see you when you arrive back at the castle.” Victor nodded again and dismissed them. The two remaining riders rode ahead of the troops back to the castle.

Victor let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, trying to dispel the small niggling headache that had started to gather in his temples.

Warm fingers brushed lightly against the knuckles of his other hand, exposed through the window of his gloves and instantly, the headache dissipated. Surprised, Victor’s head shot up and he caught Yuuri’s wary brown gaze. A sliver of heat weaved its way into his chest at the small gesture.

“Thank you,” he said softly, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smile. Yuuri nodded and looked away, the crests of his cheeks turning an interesting shade of pink. Victor peered closer, enchanted by the color.

“I am simply performing my duties as a healer,” Yuuri mumbled. Victor eyed the soft color spreading to the tips of his ears and decided not to comment, taking it as a good sign. Suddenly the rest of the day didn’t seem so daunting.

Right outside the castle gates, Victor’s clan had gathered. Their excitement was palpable and once he knew they could see him, he raised an arm and waved. The crowd cheered and headed towards him, chattering and yelling congratulations. They left a wide berth around Yuuri, unsure of how to approach such an unusual being. But with Victor, they pressed right up against his horse and eager hands tugged him down off of it.

Handfuls of flower petals and rice pilfered from the kitchens were tossed into the air, amidst more cheers.

“Many felicitations, my lord!”

“Congratulations, Your Lordship!”

The well wishes came quickly and Victor barely had time to smile his thanks before the next one took its place. He spotted Sara, head maid at the castle, hovering a few paces behind the crowd. Victor made pleading eyes at her and tilted his head towards where Yuuri had dismounted, the circle around him wider still as the crowd noticed his lack of enthusiasm.

Sara nodded and hurried over. Effortlessly, she bridged the gap between Yuuri and the clansmen, and set about introducing herself while untying Yuuri’s bags from his horse. Victor could tell that though Yuuri was overwhelmed by Sara’s ebullient manners, he was grateful for someone to guide him.

A loud bark sounded in the air and Yuuri’s head whipped to the side, his eyes searching eagerly for the source. Victor’s dog, Makkachin, pushed through the crowds and stood up on her hind legs, pressing paws and a damp nose into Victor’s chest. Her tail wagged furiously, churning the dust from the ground in curlicues in the air.

Victor knelt and greeted her with coos and kisses. She was his best friend and he’d missed her terribly in the time he had been gone.

A soft clearing of a throat and Victor looked up to see that Yuuri had joined him, his eyes trained on Makkachin. Victor stood hastily, brushing the dust from his knees. Makkachin sniffed curiously around Yuuri’s legs, then experimentally licked the hand he held out to her. With a huff and a whine, she decided Yuuri was worthy of her attentions, and she sat on his foot, leaning against his leg as she stared up at him adoringly. Yuuri knelt and lavished her with pets.

“This is my dog, Makkachin,” Victor said, feeling rather unnecessary when Yuuri didn’t even glance at him, all of his attention focused on how much Makkachin needed to be scratched. Victor felt a twinge of jealousy at how easily Makkachin had won his affections. Why wasn’t he cuddly and covered in fur? “She seems rather taken with you.”

“She’s beautiful,” Yuuri said, the smile evident in his voice. Victor felt unreasonably glad at the praise, even though he knew it wasn’t for him.

“Oy!” A jarring shout echoed from behind the crowd. Yuuri looked up curiously, searching for the source, until Makkachin boofed softly at him and he turned his attentions back to petting her.

Victor sighed. “And this is Yuri Plisetsky. Though we have different names, he is heir to the clan.” Victor eyed the slight boy stomping towards them, his very gait suggesting impatience and anger at the world.

“How did he become heir?” Yuuri was looking at him fully and Victor wasn’t ready for the impact those big brown eyes would have on him. It took him a second to recover enough to answer.

“In our society, only those who can fully transform into dragons are eligible to rule. Yuri is the first in over a century to have that skill.” Victor thought he sounded rather calm, even though his heart was pattering away. Yuuri pressed his hand to his chest, a confused expression on his face, and Victor remembered that now that they were bound, Yuuri could feel exactly how erratically his heart was beating.

When Yuuri glanced up at him, concern written on his expression, Victor feigned nonchalance and looked hastily away at Yuri, conscious the entire time of his traitorous pulse.

“Yakov wants to see you,” Yuri said without preamble once he had reached them, crossing his arms on his chest. Victor nodded.

“Yuuri, meet Yuri, my heir.” Yuuri stood, dusting his hands off before offering one to Yuri.

“Yuri, this is my mate. He’s a Healer.” Yuri sneered, then grasped Yuuri’s hand with what Victor perceived to be unnecessary force, though Yuuri didn’t flinch.

“And a human,” Yuri said, letting go after a single hard shake.

“That’s right,” Yuuri said, amused. Victor was relieved his tone wasn’t one of fear or of pain. Yuri’s constant hostility was certainly entertaining, once one was used to it, Victor mused.

Yuri sent him a pointed look and Victor snapped to attention.

“I am afraid I must leave you,” Victor said with a short bow towards Yuuri, “My advisor wishes to speak to me. But Sara is here to cater to your every wish.” Sara, who had been standing silently behind Yuuri the entire time, nodded enthusiastically.

“Leave it to me, my lord!” She said eagerly, her eyes, like those of most of the clan, fixated on Yuuri. Victor hoped she wouldn’t scare him off with her excitement.

Victor walked off towards the castle entrance, graciously accepting more congratulations from the clansmen he passed. Behind him, he heard Sara ask Yuuri if he wanted to wash up and change, and a sudden image of Yuuri in a darkened room, unclothed and lit by firelight, appeared in his mind. His heart thudded rather painfully, and he had to step into a corner to adjust his belt. 

This was no time to be aroused, he told himself sternly. He was about to speak to Yakov, whose opinion he valued most in the world. Cursing his fair skin and praying the flush had faded from his cheeks, he walked uncomfortably the rest of the way to his study in the castle library.

Yakov, his lined face pinched and stern, gray hair slicked severely back from his forehead, took one look at him, and sat down heavily on a chair, sighing in defeat.

“I can see there is nothing I could say to change your mind, Vitya.” His use of Victor’s childhood pet name made him feel rather guilty.

“What do you mean?” Victor asked, stepping to a sideboard and unstoppering a bottle of mead, pouring the golden liquid into two glasses. He handed one to Yakov and sat in his chair behind the enormous, polished wooden desk where he worked and planned.

Yakov harrumphed and downed half his glass in a single gulp. “That look on your face tells me that this wasn’t a strategic move at all. You were reckless and foolish and you let your dragon-self take over. And look what it got you? A human for a mate.”

“He’s a Healer, Yakov. A real Healer.”

“And you can’t breed with him,” Yakov countered, “What good is he if your children can’t inherit his powers?”

Victor frowned into his glass. “I have told you before that I will not be siring children.”

Yakov continued, unheeded. “You have no idea if he can heal dragons, Victor! No idea how weak he might be or how he will hinder you on the battlefield. He won’t be enough to turn the tide.”

Victor shook his head. “He’s strong, Yakov. I can tell. He’ll be a great help to the clan.”

Yakov sighed again. “Victor…do you know the Baranovskaya clan was ready to ally with us?”

Victor looked up. “In exchange for…?”

“They wanted you bonded to their queen.” Victor grimaced. The Baranovskaya queen was beautiful, of course, tall and graceful, as a true dragon queen would be. Even her dragon form was a sight to behold. Then Victor remembered how Yuuri had run towards him in the village, how his eyes had flashed and the wind had pushed the hair from his face. How mesmerizing he had been. And he was fiercely glad of the decision he’d made. Inside, his dragon nodded and huffed in agreement.

“No,” Victor said, rolling up a sleeve and twisting his arm so that Yakov could see the bondmarks he called upon. Gently, they flashed and gleamed against his skin. “I have my mate now and I know I made the right choice.”

“For yourself?” Yakov asked, his gravelly voice surprisingly sympathetic, “Or for the clan?”

Victor didn’t reply as he shook his sleeve back into place. He drained the glass of mead in his hand and they sat in silence as the muted sounds of the castle filtered through the door to his study.

 

* * *

Victor watched, fascinated, out of the corner of his eye as Yuuri carefully cut into the slab of mutton that had been placed on his plate. He seemed to be enjoying the food, though Victor knew it was much richer and heartier than he was used to.

Over and over in his mind, Yakov’s words from their earlier talk chased each other in circles.

_ Reckless…foolish…He won’t be enough to turn the tide… _ Was Yakov right? Victor pondered the question as he snuck a bite of meat under the table where Makkachin was leaning against his leg. She licked it from his fingers in an instant.

An indiscriminate cheer began at the foot of the table. Automatically, Victor smiled and raised his goblet. The cheer grew louder as his men, who dined with him every night, responded to his acknowledgment. On his right, Yakov harrumphed and grumbled about discipline among troops, but Victor ignored him and leaned towards Yuuri.

“Is the food to your liking?” He gestured vaguely at Yuuri’s plate, still overflowing with select morsels. Yuuri gamely cut another bite. The meat was bright red under the light of the candelabras placed around the hall.

“It’s fine,” Yuuri said, “Very…juicy.” He placed the bite of meat in his mouth and Victor watched as he winced, so slight that he never would have noticed had he not been paying attention. Then he understood.

“Are you unused to meat cooked so rare?”

Yuuri laughed, a soft husky sound that sent a wash of heat over Victor’s cheeks. He found himself instantly breathless, clinging to that sound like a drowning man.

“This is considered rare?” Yuuri asked, “I don’t believe this sheep ever even saw a fire.” Victor huffed an amused breath when Yuuri’s words finally filtered through his awestruck mind.

“Lean back,” he said and Yuuri did, watching wide-eyed as Victor scooted forward and pursed his lips. Carefully, he focused, and instead of his usual ice, blew a stream of blue fire towards the mutton. When the color of the surface deepened and turned a richer brown and the fat around the edges started to crackle and pop, he took Yuuri’s cutlery from his astonished fingers. With a flick of his wrist, he flipped the meat, and repeated the process.

When he finished, he didn’t move away. He was at the perfect vantage point to stare into Yuuri’s eyes and he couldn’t find it in himself to leave. Yuuri looked amazed, his eyes darting back and forth between Victor’s face and his now sizzling dinner.

“That was incredible,” Yuuri breathed, his eyes shining under the flickering lights. Victor smiled and leaned closer. He couldn’t help but notice how soft Yuuri’s lips looked under candlelight, their rosy color so beckoning and rich. Their noses almost brushed together.

“I can show you more incredible things,” Victor murmured, his voice husky with want. Yuuri’s face had turned a light shade of pink and Victor was fascinated to see it spread over his neck and collarbones.  _ It must go further than that, _ he thought idly. Lurid images filled his mind, of undressing Yuuri, of making him blush everywhere.

A loud, noisy clearing of a throat—Yakov’s—made Victor blink and move away.

“Your dinner awaits,” Victor said, after a brief moment when they both came back to themselves. Piercing whistles erupted throughout the hall. Victor had forgotten that his table of troops, not to mention the castle staff, had all borne witness to their private moment, prominent as they were, at the head of the table.

So he indulged the room with a wink and sat back in his chair amid cheers and yells, and tucked into his own dinner. He was happy to see Yuuri eating with more gusto, his face as red as the mutton had been. Though he bristled every time Victor tried to talk to him after that, his hostility more pronounced, Victor was certain it wasn’t entirely from dislike. He had seen the way Yuuri’s pupils has dilated, heard the slight hitch in his breathing.

Even after the next four courses and all through the dessert wine, Yuuri’s face did not return to its normal color. Victor was rather worried when he saw the amount of wine Yuuri consumed but when he finally rose to leave, to follow Sara, who would lead him to his new bedroom, he didn’t seem the least bit unsteady.

“I will…take my leave now,” Yuuri said softly. Victor sat up straight, tried and failed twice to clear his throat, before nodding lamely. Yuuri walked the length of the hall and Victor admired the way his clothing clung to him, and the shadows being thrown in the crevices of his body by the burning candles. Right at the doorway, Yuuri hesitated. Ever so slightly, he turned his head back and their eyes met. Victor felt a bolt of heat shoot through him before he even registered the blush on the crests of Yuuri’s cheeks.

Then Yuuri stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind him, and Victor almost snapped the wineglass he was holding in half.

His men were starting to stand and approach him, to offer congratulations and words of advice. Impatiently, he put the wineglass down and tapped his fingers against his leg. He couldn’t wait to be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING <3 <3 <3
> 
> This is my first multi-chapter fic so I'm surprised I actually managed to finish it (73k words!) I feel quite accomplished (´▽`)
> 
> Big thank you to my wonderful beta, tako <3 You are the cat's pajamas
> 
> The entire fic is already written and edited and ready to post! I will try to keep a weekly Tuesday afternoon/evening posting schedule. Please look forward to it!


	2. Chapter 2

Yuuri’s hands were shaking as he tried to unbuckle the straps on his clothing. Sara, the pretty, dark-haired maid Victor had assigned to him when they arrived at the castle hours earlier, bustled around the room, tidying and chattering.

“…never thought Lord Nikiforov would come back with a human as a mate of all things! You could have knocked me over with a feather when he first rode in. But you’re so handsome, it’s no wonder he bonded you to him as soon as he could…”

Yuuri let her voice fade away. He was bonded now, truly and completely bonded, to a dragon. He still couldn’t quite believe it. Pressing a hand to his chest, he felt the steady rhythm of his heart under his hand, a heart he now shared with Victor. The few books he had managed to acquire from the trading caravans had warned him of this, of bonding. 

“A dragon bond,” one book had said, “is unlike a human marriage. In bonding with a dragon, life forces are mingled and hearts are melded. Both mates will share a single organ and a single lifespan until one, and thus both, die.” Yuuri was now living testament to what he had always thought was a flowery metaphor.

He thought back with a shiver to the moment in his and Victor’s binding ceremony when their heartbeats had synced. That single second when a crushing force in his chest, at once surreal and strange, yet somehow right, had stolen his breath. He could feel it now, the steady reminder of his bond beating under his palm, the same rhythm that beat in Victor’s chest. Would he ever get used to it? He couldn’t be sure.

Even now, Yuuri did not fully understand what had driven him to give in so easily to Victor’s demand. Though Victor had not struck him as the kind of man who would truly go through with the violence he had hinted at, he hadn’t been able to fully discount the threat. But then he had heard the distaste in Victor’s voice, seen the regret in his eyes when he had apologized. It had been difficult to stay angry, not when curiosity at what would drive a man like Victor to desperation had taken the forefront in his mind.

His quiet life in the village had been safe, comforting. His only adventures had come from the books brought by the trading caravans; it was those that had made him dream of more, made him wonder about life outside of his village. Had it been his longing for a different life, then, that had driven him to not only shed his resentment of Victor’s threats, but also to embrace their forced bond? Whatever it had been, the thrill was starting to fade and he was beginning to seriously regret his decision.

“Well now.” Sara’s voice broke through his thoughts. Yuuri looked up from his musings to see her standing with her hands propped on her hips, tapping her foot impatiently. “No dawdling, Your Lordship. We need to get you clean and in bed before His Lordship comes up.”

She walked over and grabbed his elbow, dragging him to the side of the room where a great copper tub stood, already filled with hot, steaming water. Yuuri stumbled after her, still marveling over his new title. He was no longer Yuuri Katsuki, son of the village leader. He was now Lord Yuuri Katsuki, mate to the dragon, Lord Victor Nikiforov.

Yuuri stripped himself and quickly sat down in the tub while Sara gathered toweling and a robe. He wasn’t used to anyone undressing him. Or seeing him naked. His room back at the village had been small, but wonderfully private. Not at all like the enormous bedchamber he was now in. The tub itself was bigger than his cot had been, yet it was miniscule compared to the dimensions of Victor’s room.

Yuuri didn’t dare glance at the massive bed in the center of the bedchamber. When he had entered, he’d taken one look at it and immediately felt his face turn hot. He had avoided looking at it since, preferring instead to gaze out the windows at the castle courtyard below and the vast plains ahead, pretending he could see his home.

Sara tapped his shoulder and handed him a cake of soap, before going to stoke the fire she’d made in the hearth. Yuuri washed himself, marveling at the smooth texture and the light, floral scent that emanated from the soap, not at all like the caustic, slimy balls of goop he was used to. The lather was rich and thick and Yuuri was starting to understand that while Victor was different from what he’d imagined, he was still at heart a dragon. And dragons liked their luxuries.

Though he’d managed to keep thoughts of the night to come at a minimum, they returned in full force after he had rinsed the soap from his hair and his body and stepped from the tub into the robe Sara held open, her eyes decorously averted. The reason wasn’t apparent until Yuuri realized that the so-called robe he had put on was nothing more than the flimsiest, most transparent slip of a thing he had ever seen.

Yuuri gaped down at himself. Even in the dim light of the fire, he could see where his nipples were peaking from the chill of the room, their pink tips pushing against the gossamer-thin fabric. And further down, the dark thatch of hair on his groin was clearly visible.

“This is what I’m supposed to wear?” Yuuri squeaked, his voice three octaves higher than it had ever been in his life. All the wine he had drunk at dinner deserted him now, leaving behind nothing but the feeling that this was very, very real. “Is this even considered clothing?”

Sara chuckled as she gathered up his discarded clothes, her eyes still averted. “That’s the traditional wedding night attire for dragonkin, my lord.”

“But it doesn’t cover anything,” Yuuri whispered.

“It is not meant to,” Sara said, “It is the traditional garment for a non-dragon mate for use in the ripping ceremony.”

“…I beg your pardon?”

“The ripping ceremony, my lord,” Sara explained patiently, “His Lordship will rip the robe to signify the severing of your ties to your former life.”

Yuuri felt rather like a fish with the way his mouth was opening and closing without making a sound. His mind was a jumble and he couldn’t think of single thing to say in reply. So he nodded jerkily and shuffled over to the bed, trying to stay in the shadows of the room.

He barely heard when Sara bid him a good night and left the bedchamber. Instead, he buried himself under the blankets until only his eyes were exposed through a small hole he’d made at the foot of the bed. Warily, he watched the door. The pounding of his heart was loud and frantic in his ears and he could feel his pulse jumping in his throat.

For a wild moment, he considered fleeing. He could make a rope with the blankets, cut the curtains from the windows if he had to. He could tie them all together, climb over the balcony, and run home where it was safe. Where he wasn’t expected to have a wedding night with a dragon lord, one both endlessly fascinating and also capable of transforming into an enormous scaly beast who could kill him with a single swipe of his claws.

But he couldn’t do that. Not when he’d chosen this path, not when he had agreed of his own free-will to be bonded. Not when he was still inexplicably curious.

_ Ripping ceremony. _ The thought came unbidden and he flinched at the images that rose in his mind. Violence was a part of normal life for a dragon, Yuuri had read once, it was inevitable that a human in their midst would be injured. They were far faster and sturdier than even the strongest of men. Yuuri knew he was not one of them. He prayed for strength.

When a soft knock sounded on the door, interrupting his dark musings, Yuuri jumped and almost screamed. He pulled the blankets tighter around himself, huddling into as small of a ball as he could. Slowly, the door opened and Victor peeked his head inside.

“Yuuri?” But Yuuri couldn’t bring himself to answer and only shrunk deeper into the bedding. Victor stepped inside and shut the door softly behind him.

In the firelight, he looked bigger and more intimidating than he had under the noonday sun. Yuuri was suddenly, horrifyingly aware of the situation he had put himself in. He was at Victor’s mercy, body and soul. And there was no way out.

Unbidden, a small whimper of fear squeezed its way from his throat. Yuuri watched as Victor frowned, placed a hand over his chest, and started towards him. He squeezed his eyes shut, remembering that Victor could feel how fast his heart was beating, how erratic its rhythm had become.

“Yuuri?” Yuuri jumped. Victor’s voice sounded much closer than it should be, as if he were kneeling right in front of where Yuuri was huddled. Peeking open one eye, Yuuri’s gaze met Victor’s, who was now not more than a hand’s length away.

He froze, his mind turning blank.

Victor huffed a breath and laid a hand on the mass of blankets. Yuuri felt the heat from his grip on his shoulder and shied away.

“What happened to the defiant warrior from earlier?” Victor said with a chuckle, “I don’t like when you’re afraid of me, Yuuri.” Victor stroked his hand over Yuuri’s shoulder and he shivered in response.

“I promise I will never hurt you.” The hand lifted and Victor walked away, his footsteps soft on the thick rug laid over the stone floor.

While Yuuri mulled over his words, he watched, face heating, as Victor shed his clothes and sat down in the same copper tub Yuuri had used earlier. It was filled with a fresh batch of hot water, thanks to an ingenious system of pipes and wheels that, as Sara had informed him, Victor had designed and installed. Now no one in the castle had to heat and carry endless buckets of water for bathing.

Slowly, Yuuri loosened his grip on the blankets. Victor was right, he told himself with a conviction he didn’t quite feel. He would never hurt Yuuri. Their life forces were tied and hurting Yuuri would be akin to self-harm. A dragon’s word was law in their society and if Victor said he would never hurt Yuuri, then Yuuri should trust that.

He sat up on the bed, letting the blanket drape around his shoulders. He glanced at Victor in the tub, his hair slicked back, his arms dripping with water and bubbles as he soaped himself, and looked away again. The room had grown unmistakably warm and the blankets even more so. Yuuri could feel the heat spreading on his face, knew Victor could feel when his heart skipped a beat.

“Are you feeling better?” Victor asked from the tub, a question that was accompanied by soft splashing sounds.

Yuuri nodded, realized Victor wasn’t looking at him, then called out, “Yes, thank you.”

More splashing and Yuuri fidgeted with his robe, pleating the thin fabric between his fingers, rolling and unrolling the edge along his thigh. With each passing second, his senses were growing more attuned to every sound Victor was making, until even his breaths sounded like a storm. Where was he washing now? What part of his body was Victor running his hands over?

“Where’s Makkachin?” Yuuri finally blurted out, desperate to distract himself.

“Oh,” Victor said, his voice closer than Yuuri had expected. “I left her downstairs in the kitchens.”

The sounds of splashing had stopped. Yuuri whipped his head around just in time to see Victor standing by the tub, fully nude, toweling his hair dry. Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut but the image had been seared into his mind. The way the firelight had illuminated all the long, lean lines of Victor’s body, highlighting them in gold. The shadows cast upon his flexing arms and chest, his rippling stomach, his muscular thighs. And between his legs…Yuuri stopped breathing.

He had seen other men nude before, in the bathing pools back at the village. But none of them had looked like that. None of them had ever been close to that size, that shape.

Yuuri was terrified. Scared of the pain that would come, of submitting himself to it, to Victor, a man towards whom he felt such conflicting emotions. He had seen the way Victor’s clansmen had greeted him with such enthusiasm, knew that they held him in high regard. A lord who inspired such joy could not be all that bad. But Victor was still a stranger, and no matter how intrigued, how curious Yuuri was, he couldn’t be absolutely certain about him.

This was what he had volunteered for, Yuuri reminded himself. He had known what awaited at the other end of a bonding with a dragon and he couldn’t falter now. The reckless part of him that he had finally set free had wanted this and he had given in. He had to face the consequences. So he took a deep breath and cautiously opened his eyes again.

Victor met his gaze and the little smile he sent Yuuri made him shiver all over. He hadn’t let himself truly voice exactly why he had been so tempted to give in to Victor’s demands, but now the truth was undeniable.

Victor was extraordinarily attractive.

Though Yuuri had never seen him before today, there had always been rumors of his good looks and his…endowment. Yuuri had listened eagerly to the stories, the descriptions, and stored the information away to mull over later. He couldn’t deny any longer that he was drawn to Victor, to his handsome face, his sculpted body, even as he chastised himself for being so weak.

All at once, the blanket was too much. It was almost suffocating him. Yuuri drew it back from his shoulders and let it fall to the bed to pool in a puddle around his folded legs. Victor drew in a sharp breath, so quick it sounded like a hiss. His eyes turned dark as they traced over Yuuri’s body, as if he wanted to devour him. Yuuri’s heart throbbed but he knew he was feeling Victor’s pulse this time.

Was this sudden pounding…because of him? Victor looked thunderstruck and Yuuri was confused until he remembered what he was wearing. A glance downwards confirmed that his robe had plastered itself to his torso, molded and held in place by his sweat-dampened skin. Light bounced off the tips of his darkened nipples and Yuuri flushed. He wasn’t sure whether or not to be glad that he affected Victor so.

He raised his arms to cover himself and in a flash, Victor was there, Yuuri’s wrists firmly in his grasp, held to the side while Victor stared down at him.

“Don’t,” Victor said, his voice husky, heavy, almost a croak, “Don’t hide yourself from me.”

Yuuri swallowed nervously and Victor’s eyes burned into his throat as he tracked the movement. The look on his face was dark, intense, alert. Yuuri couldn’t help but glance down, almost afraid to look, and lost his breath in a gasp.

Victor was aroused. His cock stood tall, heavy, thickened beyond a girth Yuuri had ever imagined. The light of the fire highlighted every silver hair around the base, every vein in the long shaft, every ridge and fold under the head.

He was glorious and terrifying all at once.

“Do you like what you see?” Victor purred. Yuuri swallowed again and looked away, confusion scrambling his thoughts. Victor chucked a finger under his chin until Yuuri tilted his head up, still not meeting Victor’s gaze.

“What’s wrong?” Victor asked, a frown in his voice, “I am perhaps a little bigger than you are used to but it won’t be any different than with anyone else.”

“I have never…” Yuuri paused, unsure if he should continue, “I have never been with anyone before.” When the silence that followed became unbearable, Yuuri finally glanced up, only to see Victor looked so flabbergasted that he almost laughed.

“No one?” Victor gaped. Yuuri shook his head.

“How is that possible? You can not tell me that no one found you attractive?” Yuuri shrugged and then blushed as Victor stared at the way his robe brushed over his chest. He had never been sure of anyone’s feelings towards him, least of all sexually, but now it was all that occupied his thoughts.

Victor was frowning now. He mumbled something under his breath that sounded like “blind idiots” but Yuuri couldn’t be sure.

“Well,” Victor huffed, “I am not inexperienced and as your mate, it is my duty to guide you in the ways of lovemaking.” He sounded confident and sure.

“How many people have you…made love with?” Yuuri asked. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He had no idea if he would be able to satisfy someone as experienced as Victor must be. Or what would happen when he didn’t.

Victor gave him a small smile. “A few,” he said. Yuuri drew back, certain now that he wouldn’t be enough.

“But I have never made love in this bed before,” Victor added, slipping his arms nonchalantly under Yuuri’s back and knees and lifting him effortlessly into the air. Yuuri clung to his neck while he walked around to the top of the bed.

“I was saving it for you,” Victor murmured in his ear as he bent to lay Yuuri down on the pile of pillows. Yuuri tried to tell himself that he was doing this for his people, even though deep down, he knew it was to satisfy his own curiosity. Any pain he experienced would a natural consequence of his decision and he could only trust that Victor was as skilled as the rumors said.

Victor was so close now that Yuuri could lean up and kiss him if he wanted to. So he did, just to prove that he could be a little bit brave. A light taste of Victor’s warm lips, soft and lush, to answer the question he’d been pondering since he had first noticed Victor’s eyes lingering on his own lips.

Yuuri lay back on the pillows, his face flaming, goosebumps rising on his arms as he shivered and prayed his forwardness wouldn’t spell disaster. He could feel his ears growing hot. Victor hadn’t moved, but Yuuri watched him swallow thickly, the sound loud in his ears. Was Victor pleased with him? Had he done the wrong thing? Been too bold? But then Victor growled, low in his throat, the sound sending a tingling bolt deep into Yuuri’s belly.

“You call that a kiss?” Victor said, his voice husky. He leaned down, pressing his lips against Yuuri’s and suddenly, Yuuri couldn’t think anymore.

Victor tasted like the dessert wine they had last sipped on at dinner: sweet, dark, heady. He nibbled at Yuuri’s lips, licked his way inside Yuuri’s mouth, sucked the very breath out of him. Before he knew it, Yuuri had his fingers entangled in Victor’s silver hair, pulling him closer so he could taste even more of him. When every kiss was punctuated with a breathless gasp and Yuuri wasn’t sure he could stand it anymore, Victor finally let him go.

His eyes were dazed, his hair mussed into oblivion. He looked entirely rumpled and aroused. Yuuri could feel their heart pounding in his chest. Before he could recover, Victor had leaned down and dipped a tongue into the hollow at the base of his throat and licked his way down to the hardened nubs of Yuuri’s nipples. With expert skill, he licked and suckled over the thin fabric, using teeth and tongue and clever, clever fingers, to work at the reddened peaks, until Yuuri was arching his back and crying out.

When the friction from the robe’s fabric was almost unbearable against his tender nipples, Victor shifted, kissing his way down Yuuri’s heaving stomach, nibbling at patches of skin along the way. His big, hot hands gently lifted Yuuri’s legs, spreading his thighs to lay flat on the bed. He was entirely exposed but he couldn’t find it in himself to protest.

Yuuri knew he was erect, could feel the erotic slide of the robe against the sensitive underside of his cock, could feel it sticking to him from the liquid that had seeped out in response to Victor’s attentions on his nipples. But he couldn’t move away, was too trapped by sensation to escape. Victor kissed along his thigh, soft and warm, heading straight for his groin. Yuuri knew what would happen next but he couldn’t bring himself to stop it.

Without warning, Victor licked Yuuri along his cock, from base to tip, in one long stroke. Yuuri gasped and arched, his hands grabbing for the sheets next to his head. Victor kept going. He mouthed along Yuuri’s length, nibbling and suckling until the robe was plastered to his cock, molded by wetness, a perfect outline of his rampant arousal.

Yuuri moaned, his hands finding their way back into Victor’s hair. He didn’t know if he was pushing Victor’s head away or pulling it closer. His mind whirled with sensation, assaulting him with conflicting desires. He wanted to run, to escape this surge of overwhelming sensations, but the things Victor was doing to him were driving those urges away, chased by a growing need for Victor to continue.

With a finger, Victor lifted Yuuri’s cock from his stomach where it stuck, separating it from the small puddle of liquid that had leaked from his tip.

And sucked it eagerly into his mouth.

Yuuri cried out, his lips falling open, his fists closing on Victor’s hair. But Victor didn’t pause. He bobbed up and down, sliding Yuuri along his tongue, letting it swirl around Yuuri’s shaft, all the while sucking with increasing strength.

Yuuri thrashed, his thighs closing around Victor’s head, holding him in place. When he felt a gentle nudge against his entrance from Victor’s fingers, wet and probing, he welcomed the respite from pleasure. Until Victor slipped them inside and Yuuri realized he hadn’t really known what pleasure was.

Victor pressed his fingers deep, sliding them back and forth along his tight insides, the friction and the pressure making Yuuri see stars. Then he pressed on a point inside him and sucked on Yuuri’s cock with such force that Yuuri’s vision exploded.

His hips lifted from the bed as he came, screaming, spilling into Victor’s mouth, clamping down on Victor’s fingers inside of him. For long moments, he was nothing but a vessel for pleasure. It coursed through him until it left him spent, panting on the bed, damp all over, confused by the tides of sensation that blasted him from all sides.

Yuuri felt Victor slip his fingers out with a soft moan, already missing the sensation of being filled. Victor let Yuuri’s cock fall from his mouth as he kissed his way back up Yuuri’s body.

He could taste himself on Victor’s lips and tongue as they kissed. He could feel Victor’s stiffened cock rubbing against his and the unmistakable stirrings of arousal gathering again in his groin.

“God, Yuuri,” Victor bit out against his lips, sounding shaken, “I want to be inside you.”

Yuuri moaned into his mouth and wrapped his arms around Victor’s neck, entangling their tongues in a furious dance. With a snarl, Victor broke the kiss and raised himself off of Yuuri. There was a wild look in his eyes and a deep growl fell from his lips as he reached down and ripped open Yuuri’s robe. The thin, wet fabric tore easily from the strength of his abrupt motions. It was primal and it was violent, and it aroused Yuuri beyond reason. He couldn’t help the shiver that spread through him, a shiver of fear and excitement.

Victor moved away the scraps of ripped fabric and tossed them to the floor without sparing them a glance. Yuuri had expected more formality around the ripping ceremony but he was glad, and a little proud, to have driven Victor to such a frenzy. The severing of his ties to his former life were but a pile of damp ribbons on the ground and he eyed them for a split second before dismissing them from his mind.

Yuuri moaned again, slowly this time, and arched his back, enjoying the freedom from the surprisingly restrictive robe. He knew his groin was a mess. Though the robe had been sheer, it hadn’t let much of his come escape when he’d orgasmed before. A fact that was now proving to be quite useful. Victor rubbed his own cock against Yuuri’s, coating it in the slick fluids, teasing Yuuri back into a full erection as they slid damply together.

Victor pushed Yuuri’s thighs deeper into the mattress with his hips, his hands gripping his waist, fingers almost touching. Yuuri could feel the head of his erect cock pressed against his entrance, hot and thick, already stretching him.

“Yuuri?” Victor panted, looking up at him through the sweaty strands of hair that had fallen on his face. Yuuri could see the strain in his expression, from holding back, from not thrusting with all of his might. A curl of heat made its way into his chest at the way Victor hesitated.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Victor said, a grimace on his face, his hands trembling against Yuuri’s waist. Yuuri smiled, feeling oddly grateful and tender, and covered Victor’s hands with his own.

“I heal, remember?” He lifted a hand to the back of Victor’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

“Take me as your mate,” he whispered against his lips. Victor closed his eyes momentarily, as if in prayer, and nudged himself forward.

He was infinitely gentle and slow, pausing when Yuuri winced, rocking himself inside as tenderly as he could. Yuuri urged him on with sighs and whimpers, eager now to feel Victor fill him, all hostility forgotten. When he felt the brush of Victor’s hips against his bottom, he knew Victor was fully seated and he moaned at the sensation.

“Are you alright?” Victor panted into his ear, a groan catching in his throat. Yuuri nodded, breathless.

“You’re so deep,” he gasped, trying to adjust. He was beyond filled, almost bursting at the seams. He didn’t know how this would continue. His stomach churned in anticipation, his inner muscles clenched around Victor’s cock. Slowly, tentatively, Victor pulled out, until Yuuri felt the edge of his tip catch on the rim of his entrance and he whimpered, scrabbling his hands uselessly against Victor’s back, wanting him to return.

And then he did.

In one swift motion, Victor thrust himself back in, all the way to the hilt. The electric shock of it made Yuuri cry out, his nails digging into the hard planes of Victor’s back. There was pain, of course there was. It was sharp and quick, replaced almost immediately by dragging bolts of pleasure as Victor rubbed inside of him, over and over. Yuuri could feel his healing powers working to relieve him of pain.

He couldn’t stop the noises that fell from his mouth, torn from deep in his chest by Victor’s movements. The wet sounds as Victor worked in him normally would have embarrassed him. But hearing them grow louder and more frantic, coupled with Victor’s rough breathing and soft groans in his ear, only served to arouse him more. The slapping of wet flash echoed around the room, the rhythm fast, almost hypnotic.

Yuuri could feel himself leaking, every thrust pushing out more pre-come from his hard, dripping cock. It puddled on his stomach, spilling down his sides onto the sheets underneath him. Heat was spreading from his entrance, shooting trails of fire up his torso and down his hips.

He wrapped his legs around Victor’s waist, angling himself so that Victor could press harder, deeper into him. With a moan at the change in sensation, Victor shifted, laying himself down on top of Yuuri, pressing him fully into the mattress, never stopping the movement of his hips.

Blindly, Yuuri cupped Victor’s head and pulled him closer for a kiss, almost sobbing when Victor’s lips finally met his. Victor’s tongue invaded his mouth, tangling and licking, mimicking the things he was doing to Yuuri with his cock. Yuuri whimpered, overcome with sensation. Victor’s chest was rubbing against the tender nubs of his nipples, his stomach pressed hard against Yuuri’s stiff cock, his tongue rubbed inside his mouth. Coupled with Victor’s cock, sending endless waves of pleasure through him, Yuuri couldn’t escape.

He was a coil, winding tighter and tighter by the second, ready to spring open. His moans turned to cries, his cries to screams, as the pressure built inside him, the sensations threatening to overwhelm him.

Victor broke his steady rhythm, his hips faltering, slamming roughly into Yuuri’s. He cried out Yuuri’s name, his voice breaking, his cock pushed so deeply and roughly inside Yuuri against that spot that had broken him earlier.

And Yuuri shattered. With a wail, he came, legs squeezing around Victor’s waist, nails digging into his back, his vision turning white. Thick, hot spurts of come shot out of his twitching cock, coating both their chests. It was endless and all too brief. In the midst of it all, he heard Victor groan his name into his ear, over and over, as he spilled himself inside.

He could feel Victor’s cock swell and jump, his seed pumping into him, a hot wave that invaded him and marked him as bound. Yuuri felt a strange sense of belonging spread through him as he clung, helplessly pulsing around Victor’s cock.

When they were both left trembling and boneless, still joined, Yuuri combed a shaky hand through Victor’s sweat-dampened hair. He could see his bondmarks glowing on his arms, brought out by their lovemaking. Softly, the icy blue swirls shimmered and danced. Victor lifted his head from where he’d been panting against Yuuri’s shoulder and Yuuri admired how well his bondmarks matched the color of Victor’s eyes.

Victor smiled crookedly, concern evident in his gaze, the tender look causing Yuuri’s heart to swell in his chest.

“Are you alright?” he whispered, gently brushing away a few stray tears from Yuuri’s face with his thumb. Yuuri hadn’t even noticed them.

He nodded tiredly, leaning his cheek against Victor’s palm. Victor smiled wider, pressed a soft kiss against his lips, and pushed himself up. Yuuri watched the dark brown bands on his forearms gleam in the light of the dying fire. They looked almost like velvet but Yuuri was too tired to reach out and touch them.

When Victor gently pulled himself out, Yuuri couldn’t help but give a soft moan at the sensation against his tender flesh, already mourning the loss. He could feel Victor’s seed dribble out of him, warm from the heat of his body. For a moment, he toyed with asking Victor to put himself back in. But he was too warm, too content, to speak.

Yuuri fought the haze of sleep that was threatening to take him over. Drowsily, he watched Victor move around the room, stopping by the tub for a quick rinse. He didn’t protest when Victor returned with a warm, wet cloth and gently wiped him down. His limbs felt so heavy, as if they were made of lead.

It was only when Victor had settled Yuuri against his side, cradling his head on his shoulder, layers of furs and woven blankets settling warmly around them, did Yuuri sigh deeply and let himself drift off to sleep.

Vaguely, before he succumbed, he felt Victor kiss his hair and murmur softly about making the right choice. But it didn’t register in his mind and the velvet blackness of sleep claimed him at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> I did not realize anonymous works are not listed in the Works section of the AO3 dashboard and got really confused for a minute ಠ_ಠ
> 
> Anyway, I originally planned to fit the smut into chapter 1 but...it got so long haha...sorry if anyone read chapter 1 thinking it'd have smut...


	3. Chapter 3

Yuuri smelled like his soap, Victor thought idly. His breathing had slowed, turned deep and even as he slept, his head nestled against Victor’s shoulder. Victor buried his nose into his hair and took another sniff. Light, floral soap, handmade by his own people, and a huskier underlying scent that was all Yuuri. Victor couldn’t get enough of it.

The marks on their arms were fading, finally. Victor hadn’t realized that they would show up again, had never truly paid attention to bondmarks before. But he liked them now, liked that they signified a connection between them.

He sighed quietly. Already, he missed the warm darkness of Yuuri’s eyes, missed falling into them every time he looked at Yuuri. He brushed a thumb across Yuuri’s forehead, moving away the hair that had fallen onto it. He couldn’t help but lay a kiss against Yuuri’s temple.

Though the fire was dying down in the hearth, Victor could see well enough to make out the marks that were starting to form on Yuuri’s neck, kiss marks he’d left only moments before. He could feel desire rising in him again, but he tamped it down viciously. It had been a momentous day for both of them. Yuuri was bound to be sore and Victor refused to cause him more discomfort. He might be a dragon, but he wasn’t a monster.

Contentedly, he lay for long minutes, occasionally stroking Yuuri’s cheek or playing with the fingers on the hand Yuuri had laid across his chest. He looked so young, so peaceful when he was asleep. Victor felt a niggling of guilt poke at his mind. Would Yuuri ever be happy to be bonded to him? His fear earlier had been worrying, but Victor thought he had done a good job of dispelling it. After the initial fear, Yuuri had seemed less afraid of him, almost...welcoming.

Victor nervously brushed his fingers over Yuuri’s ear, admiring the shape and the soft color of it. He was just waiting now.

The knock came a scant half hour later, soft but firm, two short raps on his bedroom door. Without waiting for a reply, it opened. Victor didn’t look up from his study of Yuuri’s eyelashes, dark against his cheeks.

“My lord,” the guard whispered, “your horse has been readied.”

Victor raised an arm in acknowledgment and the guard closed the door. He listened as the soft footfalls walked away, then he sighed, not wanting to leave.

He was newly bonded, after all, and he wanted the traditional first week of seclusion, those private first days he could spend alone with his mate. When they could discover each other and bond fully, hearts and minds. Even more importantly, he wanted the time to show Yuuri that he wasn’t a ruthless beast, that he had every intention of treating Yuuri as a true mate. He could feel his inner dragon grumbling possessively, loathe to leave its new mate so soon after claiming him.

But he was a lord in a time fraught with danger and he couldn’t forget his duties or his people.

With the thought of Georgi and his injured men making the long, arduous journey home at the front of his mind, Victor pressed a kiss against Yuuri’s lips and slowly extracted his arm from underneath him. Yuuri moaned softly, his hand stretching out as if to grab him. Victor froze until the tips of Yuuri’s fingers touched his chest and, with a satisfied sigh, Yuuri settled back into sleep. Then he left the bed with a smile, carefully rearranging the blankets and tucking them around Yuuri’s sleeping form, before he went to dress.

Thanks to centuries of preparation, the maids had hung Victor’s light armor on the inside of the door to his wardrobe. It took no time at all to put on clothes and strap on his armor, his fingers long used to the heavy straps and buckles. His short sword was belted, boots stomped into, and he padded from the room. Victor contented himself with a last longing glance at the sleeping form on the bed before he shut the door and headed down to the courtyard.

A small contingent of riders, his fastest, were performing last-minute checks on the supplies they were carrying, and double-checking the straps on their horses.

Victor nodded at their soft greetings, turning his mind to the task at hand. Georgi and his men had been sent north, to scout the encampment of the North Mountain dragons, to gather any information they could that would give Victor and his clan a fighting chance. The scout said they had hidden themselves along the same path they had taken to get there. Victor and his men would follow that very route to find them.

He was first to mount and after the other riders followed, he nudged his horse into a canter, guiding it out of the courtyard and towards the Northern Pass, guided only by moonlight and worry.

 

* * *

 

They rode through the night, stopping only when the sun had risen high enough in the sky that the wildlife around them was starting to wake. Chris, one of the riders, found a shallow cave along the mountain pass that they could use for shelter until it was dark again. They led the horses in, then strapped on the feed bags so they could eat.

The ride from the castle had been mostly silent, the men not wanting to awaken or alert anything or anyone who might be watching for them. But with the sun up and the night’s ride over, they started to chat again amongst themselves.

“How is the new mate, my lord?” Chris asked, a tease in his tone as they unbuckled their horses side by side. Victor’s men were not usually so casual with him, but Chris had served under him for so long that he and Victor had developed a close friendship.

“He’s fine,” Victor said, somewhat wistfully, not wanting to dwell on the thought of Yuuri left sleeping in his bed. His heart panged for the briefest of moments before he shook himself. He had been bonded for less than a day and now he was mooning over his mate like a lovestruck boy in short pants. He hoped Yuuri hadn’t been awake to feel it.

“He seems like the quiet type,” Chris mused as he brushed down his horse who was thoroughly engrossed in eating.

Unbidden, the image of Yuuri spread open, lying underneath him, writhing and screaming as Victor thrust into him, rose in his mind. Victor pushed away the sudden intense desire to ride all the way back to his castle, and sternly told his burgeoning erection to go away.

“Not always,” he finally said after a short silence. Chris grinned knowingly and Victor turned away, his cheeks hot, to brush down his own horse. The familiar motions were routine now, mindless and soothing, but it still took longer than it should have for Victor to refocus.

The men unpacked a small meal, too tired from riding to do more than slap together pieces of cured meat and cheese in between hunks of soft bread before they laid out their bedrolls and dropped to sleep. One of the men pulled out a wooden rod and stood guard by the cave entrance, idly whittling away at it.

Victor laid down on his lumpy bedroll, feeling every small pebble and rock on the ground underneath him. It was becoming the norm for his thoughts to turn to Yuuri and he didn’t fight it. A sudden ache in his heart, one he knew wasn’t his, had him pressing a hand to his chest.

_ I’m sorry I’m not there to wake up with you, _ he thought, hoping the message would somehow be transmitted to Yuuri. From his memories, he recalled the soft scent of soap and the feel of Yuuri’s hand on his chest, and he closed his eyes, hugging it to him as he fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

Victor woke immediately when a hand was placed lightly on his shoulder. The sky outside the cave was a dark grayish blue, turning slowly to black. Dusk had fallen and it was time to continue their journey. Without a sound, the other riders awoke and they re-saddled their horses, clearing any evidence that they had been in the cave before continuing their ride north.

The path was trickier now. It was beginning to narrow and twist back and forth, a serpentine trail that took enormous concentration to navigate. Victor let his horse have its head, the reins loose along it neck, so it could pick its way through unhindered.

He scanned the sky every few minutes, searching for any silent hovering figures that might be tracking them. Though it remained clear, Victor couldn’t dispel the sense of unease he felt. There was trouble brewing in these lands and getting caught up in it could mean the end of his clan.

They rode as swiftly as they could, forgoing rest, until they reached a plateau where the path widened enough that they could travel abreast without the danger of falling off the road they were on. Craggy cliff faces rose in the distance, their jagged peaks illuminated by moonlight. Victor knew that the North Mountain clan’s fortress was nearby, but he couldn’t explain how. It was simply a feeling in his mind that an enormous number of dragonkin were not far off.

It had been hours since they’d left the cave and Victor could tell his men’s energy levels were flagging, so he signaled for a break. They dismounted and let the horses graze on the sparse grass that grew on the plateau. More food was unwrapped and skins of water passed around. Victor bit into his sandwich and washed it down with a swig of his waterskin. A light breeze ruffled his hair, bring with it a familiar metallic scent: blood.

Holding his sandwich in one hand, he silently unsheathed his short sword with the other. His men followed suit and drew their weapons, their eyes darting around the flat plateau, searching for any sign of movement. Victor held his breath, not wanting even the sound of his own breathing to distract him.

The wavering of a shadow, so slight Victor thought he was seeing things, made him turn his head. In a flash, his sandwich was on the ground, his sword raised as a dark figure leapt from the shadows and slashed at him. The ringing sound of metal on metal echoed through the cliffs. Victor knew the jarring blow would leave bruises on his hands. The only thing strong enough to do that was another dragon.

Victor set his shoulders, ready to swing his sword in a parry when—

“My lord!” a familiar voice gasped. Victor stopped himself, wrenching his sword arm back to find that it had been Georgi who had pounced on him. His rapid heartbeat settled quickly.

Georgi looked ghastly, his face and hair streaked with dirt and dried blood, his clothing had large holes and ragged slashes in it. Beneath it, his marred skin, dark and shining with fresh blood, was clearly visible.

“Georgi!” Victor sheathed his sword and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad to see you still breathing.”

“Not for long,” Georgi panted. He held a hand to his side and leaned against the stone wall behind him. The hand, when he showed it to Victor, was stained dark, moonlight bouncing off its wet surface. Victor grimaced. If Georgi was in this condition, he wasn’t sure what he’d find in the others.

Georgi led them to the rest of the men, carefully limping his way between rough rock formations and bramble bushes.

“They didn’t find us until we were about to leave, my lord,” Georgi whispered, his voice barely audible, “They were just a routine scouting party but we walked too close to them, and they called in reinforcements. We fought until we could run and I managed to hold them back with fire, but by then we were already like this.” Georgi gestured to his side. “I don’t think they were able to pick up our trail again.”

“How are the others?” Victor asked. Georgi shook his head.

“Not good. If we don’t get them to a healer soon, I don’t think they’ll make it.” Victor’s heart clenched. He had done this to them, sent them here to spy on the North Mountain clan without reinforcements, thinking it would be a quick and painless trip.

“We weren’t sure if we’d make it through the pass,” Georgi continued, “I’m glad you’re here, my lord.”

Victor grimaced. “You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me,” he said.

Georgi didn’t reply.

They arrived at an alcove where Georgi had hidden his men. Overhead hung a protrusion of rock, moss and vines growing abundantly from its surface, forming a curtain that covered the shallow space beneath it. It was the perfect place to hide from sight.

The situation was worse than Victor had imagined. The three men that made up Georgi’s party were all lying on the ground, each in worse condition than the next. Leo, the only one who managed to open his eyes, tried to sit up before Victor rushed over and put a hand on his shoulder, bidding him to stay put.

“My lord,” Leo whispered, his lips dry and cracked, his voice nonetheless glad, “you came.”

“Of course,” Victor said, “I couldn’t leave my men.” He had one of the riders fetch his waterskin which he carefully aimed and poured into Leo’s mouth. Extra bandages and splints were pulled from their packs and they set to work as best they could, patching up each of the men. Victor knew, though, that their efforts wouldn’t be enough if they couldn’t get his men back to Yuuri.

In the end, after much whispered discussion, it was decided that each rider would take an injured man with him over the pass. The extra supplies would be piled on Victor’s horse, and he would fly overhead in dragon form, to protect them from above. Victor refused to be talked down from that. It was the least he could do: protect his men as they went home.

There weren’t enough hours of darkness left for them to safely make it through the pass with the extra weight tonight. Reluctantly, Victor and his riders uncamped under the overhanging rock, careful not to disturb the natural foliage. They passed around rations, including wrapped packets of cold gruel cooked in broth that had been prepared for the injured men.

As they fed the wounded, Victor asked Georgi for a report of what he had seen.

“They are preparing for war, my lord,” Georgi whispered between bites, his breathing labored, “Their forges never stopped and neither did their troops. At all hours of the night, they were patrolling and practicing formations. They have troops in a number I never imagined possible.” Victor grimaced and stopped him, not wanting his news to worry the other men any further.

With the increased party numbers, they switched to two-person guard shifts, excusing Georgi and his men. Gratefully, they slept for the first time in days, relieved to have people to watch out for them. Victor took the first shift with Chris, too consumed with strategies and what-ifs to sleep.

Carefully, he pulled aside the curtain of moss that hid them from the outside and searched both the landscape around him and the craggy rocks that rose above. Seeing no movement, he crept out and leaned against the rock face, wrapping his dark cloak around his body, more to block stray reflections of light from his armor than for warmth. Chris followed silently, positioning himself opposite Victor at the entryway.

A companionable silence fell. Victor cataloged the sounds of breathing in the hiding place, listening for any abnormalities. When he was sure none were on their last breaths or snoring too loudly, he let his shoulders finally relax against the rock face. If he could only get them back safely, he could take them to Yuuri. And when Yuuri had healed them, maybe then the mantle of guilt he wore on his shoulders would lift.

“My lord,” Chris whispered. “about Georgi’s report…”

“Not now, Chris.” Victor shook his head, holding up his hand to stop him. “Let me think it over before we start planning. For now, we need to focus on getting us all back to the castle.”

There was a brief silence and then—

“Do you think it’ll work?” Chris asked. Flashes of all the things that could go wrong ran through Victor’s mind. He grit his teeth, forcing himself to focus on the plan.

“It will have to,” he said. Chris nodded and changed the subject.

For the next three hours, they chatted about everything and nothing, falling silent every few minutes to check the perimeter. Victor told Chris about his binding ceremony with Yuuri, since Chris had been at the castle at the time. Chris regaled him with the latest mishaps from the kitchens. They chuckled quietly together when Chris described the look on Minako, the castle’s head chef’s, face, when the newest kitchen maid had ruined a stew.

“As if the dark god himself had taken over her.” Chris said, while Victor bent over in silent laughter.

“What did she do?” Victor asked, wiping a tear from his eye.

Chris shook his head. “The second smoke started pouring out of her nose, I just ran.” Neither of them spoke for the next few minutes, too busy stifling their laughter.

Before he knew it, the sky had started to lighten, hazy gray rays appearing on the horizon. With a careful last sweep of the surroundings, Victor and Chris entered the hideout, woke the next round of guards, and settled down to sleep as much as they could before the long journey home.

When next Victor woke, the sun had already slipped over the horizon, the red glow in the clouds fading away in darkness. He stood and stretched, feeling the aches on his back and limbs from sleeping on rocky, uneven grounds for three nights. His armor was starting to chafe but he wouldn’t remove it until he could be sure of safety.

They set about readying their horses for departure, piling any excess loads onto Victor’s horse to keep their own from tiring too soon. One by one, the riders mounted and the others carefully sat an injured man in front of him. Victor half-carried, half-walked the last one, Georgi, over to Chris on his horse.

When he realized Georgi didn’t have the strength to lift himself up, Victor had him lean against the horse while he stepped back and transformed. Then with careful movements, he lifted Georgi in his claws and set him down in front of Chris. He couldn’t speak when he was in dragon form, so he jutted his chin at the pass, a clear signal to start descending the mountain. Slowly, the line of horses made their way to it.

There were flaws in the plan, of course. Victor knew no plan would be foolproof. But his current one seemed to have more holes than he normally expected to find. For one thing, as an ice dragon, he was a bright, almost sparkling, white clearly visible even in the darkness. Any dragon on patrol would easily notice him and because he was alone, he would be an easy target.

For another, his men were moving slowly, much more slowly than they had when they rode up the mountain. They would be lucky to reach the cave below before noon the next day, which meant a good four or five hours in broad daylight for anyone to see. They too made for easy targets.

And on the treacherously narrow passageway they inched along, a single stumble meant plummeting to their deaths. Victor eyed it critically as he glided overhead, calculating the odds of him catching anyone who slipped off, not liking the numbers.

With that in mind, Victor transformed back into his human form, following his men closely, constantly watching the sky and scanning the overhang next to the path. Occasionally, when he was sure the sky was clear, he would let his wings unfurl from his back to lift himself into the air for a quick check of the surrounding landscape. He was grateful that his bond with Yuuri had allowed him the use of his wings without the need to fully transform.

It was on one such lap that he saw them: a trio of armed soldiers coming down the same path they were on. They would be right on top of them in no less than ten minutes. Victor signaled his men to leave him and keep going. Given how narrow the path was, there was no way they would be able to dismount and defend themselves. They could only stay on their horses and hope Victor would rid them of the threat.

Victor transformed and steadied himself against the rock wall, directly facing where the soldiers would come from. He wouldn’t be able to fully spread out his wings and his balance was precarious at best, but he could still use his claws and his breath. He crouched, ready to spring the second they turned the corner.

He could smell them getting closer, the familiar scent of oiled armor, sweat, and determination wafting towards him. His legs tensed, his talons stretched out, better to cover more area. They were right around the corner. Any second now, Victor would hear the sound of swords being drawn, battle cries, the thundering of—

A white cloth—a handkerchief—was thrown around the corner, fluttering directly onto the path in front of Victor. He barely stopped himself from incinerating it, hastily swallowing the flames that were already burning in his mouth. He let them dissipate, smoke wafting away in the breeze, and gingerly picked up the handkerchief between his talons.

It certainly looked like a normal handkerchief, and quite spotless, which was surprising given the condition of the terrain around him. Victor cautiously sniffed it. It smelled like soap and sweat, no hint of tonics or herbs that might harm him.

Were they surrendering? This was what a white cloth meant, wasn’t it? Victor eyed the corner suspiciously, still clutching the handkerchief. He wasn’t going to fall for a trap, but if they weren’t going to fight, then he would be glad to save his strength for helping his men home. He transformed into human form and unsheathed his sword. Holding it in one hand, the handkerchief in the other, he braced himself for whatever would come next.

“Show yourselves,” Victor called. A young soldier rounded the corner, his weapons sheathed, his face passive and fearless. The other two Victor had spotted followed in his wake, flanking him as best they could on the narrow path. Victor eyed the soldier in front. He looked oddly familiar. Victor couldn’t see the color of his hair underneath his helmet but he had eyes as black as coal, narrow and serious. The eyes of a boy—no, a man—who had seen war.

Victor recognized that look.

“You are the King’s son,” he said, and the soldier bowed.

“I am Otabek Altin, son of the North Mountain King.” His voice was deep and soothing, his words precise and unfaltering.

Victor held up the handkerchief. “What is the meaning of this?”

“I wish to speak with you,” Otabek said, “without a fight.”

“Then speak.” Victor sheathed his sword, keeping enough of a distance between himself and Otabek that he could draw it again if need be. For a long moment, Otabek was silent. Victor prepared himself for an attack.

“I’m going to overthrow my father,” Otabek said simply.

Victor blinked in surprise. “Doesn’t that mean you have to kill him?”

“Yes.” Otabek was matter-of-fact, his face showing no hint of remorse or hesitation. Victor raised an eyebrow.

“Why tell me? What is to stop me from going to him right now?”

Otabek tilted his head in the direction of the path.

“Your men need you more,” he said, “I am informing you of my plans because I want your support when I take over.”

Victor bristled. “I won’t support a bloodthirsty, warmongering clan such as yours,” he snarled.

Otabek’s face grew more grave. “I will end the war.”

“What?”

“I want peace as much as you do, Lord Nikiforov. My people have died as well and I believe we will benefit as much from a cessation of hostilities as any other dragon clan.”

“This war has lasted for more than two centuries now. Do you truly believe your people will follow you when you decide to end it?”

“It will be difficult to change their ways, but I am prepared.”

Victor was silent. Defending his clan from outside forces had been a way of life for so long, that it was hard to imagine peace. But even if he couldn’t remember it, it had to be better than the precarious state they were in now. There had been so many casualties, so many sacrifices already. Yuuri’s face flitted momentarily through his mind and he made a decision.

Victor squared his shoulders with a nod. “Should you manage to dethrone your father and take his place, I will support you in your new reign of peace,” he said with all the formality he could muster. He lost nothing from agreeing and if Otabek managed to do as he said, then he could focus fully on making Yuuri happy to be bonded to him. Otabek nodded and stepped forward with his hand outstretched and Victor didn’t hesitate to grasp it in a short shake.

“I look forward to our alliance,” Otabek said. Then he nodded towards the path. “Return in peace. I have directed my father’s soldiers to look elsewhere. They won’t be watching the path down the mountain.”

Victor thanked him, stepped back, and transformed into a dragon. Though Otabek’s face showed no surprise, the two soldiers with him were not as emotionless. Victor knew his coloring was rare, especially among the northern clans, but it was still amusing to see the reactions. Just for effect, he breathed a quick breath of ice, freezing the moisture in the air and letting it fall as snow on the soldiers. One of the soldiers held up his hand in wonder, catching the flakes as they fell on his glove.

Victor turned and flapped his wings, sending himself into the air, and headed after his men.

When they asked him what had happened, he simply said that he had caused a distraction and sent them on a different path. Victor didn’t want to tell his men about the news while they were focused on getting to safety as quickly as they could. He needed to strategize, to plan out all the ways the variables had changed, to figure out his next steps. But he couldn’t do that while worrying at every breath the injured men took.

They spent a fraught day in the same cave they had camped in on the way up. Georgi’s men were getting worse and Victor hovered over them, growing increasingly worried. One had a fever and another couldn’t be woken, even for water. Victor wanted to keep going and he trusted Otabek when he said the path was clear, but his men and horses were tired. Victor couldn’t be sure the constant jostling wouldn’t make the injuries worse.

Finally, they started on the last leg of their journey, traveling across the flat plains at night, the final stretch before the castle. Victor allowed himself to imagine, as a distraction from the situation at hand, a clan without war, without the constant struggle to balance his numbers against the armies who tried to invade his lands. A future filled with peace.

The image of Yuuri, of how he had smiled at Victor right after they had been bonded, appeared in his mind’s eye. A peaceful future with Yuuri, where they could lead his clan together, without the fear of being invaded. Victor smiled to himself. He’d like that.

They could travel together, see the lands he knew Yuuri had never seen. They could change the clan into one Victor had always imagined: prosperous and busy. Long days stretched before them, days of contentment and joy. Victor wanted that future with a hope newly born. It fluttered in his chest and though he knew it was foolish, he couldn’t bring himself to crush it.

A glad shout sounded from his men and Victor focused ahead. In the distance, the castle gates loomed, appearing out of the early morning mist. Without a word or a signal, the riders spurred their horses faster, impatient to reach safety. Victor flapped his wings and hastened along with them. He had never been so eager to come home before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I'm still figuring out how tagging works so if anyone has any tag suggestions, please let me know! I've been looking through other fic tags to see what they do and it turns out I'm not nearly explicit or granular enough ლ(¯ロ¯"ლ)


	4. Chapter 4

Yuuri wasn’t sure what he had expected after his first night with Victor. He knew Victor had to leave to fetch his men, but somehow it hadn’t registered that it meant Yuuri would wake up alone.

He was sore in places he had never paid attention to, tired in a way he had never expected. A strange contentment he had never felt before had settled on him like a warm blanket, but there was no one to share the quiet moment with.

The place next to him in the overly large bed was empty and cold, with nothing but the faintest impression of a body and the lingering scent of warm skin to tell Yuuri that Victor had been there at all. He couldn’t be sure, but this didn’t seem like a normal way for someone newly bonded to wake up. Even though they had been bonded for less than a day and Yuuri was still uncertain about his opinion of Victor, he couldn’t help but feel bereft, as if a part of him was missing.

His heart ached and he pressed a hand to his chest. If Victor were awake, wherever he was, he would know that Yuuri was thinking of him. Yuuri flushed and slapped his hands against his cheeks. This wasn’t the time or the place to be acting like some moonstruck boy. He needed to prepare for when Victor returned with his wounded men.

He thought back to the worry in Victor’s eyes when his scout had informed them that the men hadn’t returned. He hoped they would return in time to be healed. He hoped he had the skill to do so.

Gingerly, Yuuri climbed out of the bed. But the second he tried to stand, he collapsed onto the floor. The bones in his legs seemed to have disappeared overnight. For the thousandth time, he pondered the limitations of his powers. Though he could heal most physical wounds, he could only sporadically alleviate soreness and fatigue. The injuries he had incurred from his night with Victor had healed, but he was still shaky from being held open in positions he wasn’t used to.

It took him a few tries before he was standing again on unsteady legs. Yuuri felt rather like a fawn, newly born to the world. He wobbled over the wardrobe, bracing himself against the wall as he went, his steps mincing and small. He didn’t think he was walking properly, given how sore he was in certain areas, but at least he was upright and mobile.

His reflection in the mirror next to the wardrobe caught his eye and Yuuri paused to study it. He looked like a man well-loved. There were kiss marks on his neck and torso, and Yuuri ran his fingers over them, remembering the feel of Victor’s mouth on his skin. He blushed, pushing away the wave of desire that washed over him.

His nipples were still dark from Victor’s attentions the night before and his waist, his hips, even his thighs still bore faint impressions of Victor’s hands and mouth. His body hadn’t bothered to heal these physical reminders of lovemaking and Yuuri wondered if his bond with Victor was at work, fighting against his healing abilities. How long would it take for them to fade naturally, Yuuri wondered. And would Victor be back to make more marks before they did?

Yuuri studied his face. There was something about his complexion that had changed as well. Peering closer, he tried to place it. He looked…satisfied. The blush on his cheeks darkened at the thought. It was true that he had never been with someone before, but for it to affect him so… It had to be a side effect of being bonded, Yuuri thought with a nod. Something in his body had changed and that change was causing this tumultuous disruption of his emotions.

With a shake of his head, Yuuri grabbed his clothing from the wardrobe where he had seen Sara hang them the night before, and put them on. Then, with a sword, a satchel, and a basket he had brought from his village in hand, he left the bedroom, his legs steadier and more sure.

He almost ran right into Sara, only managing to step back just in time. With a startled cry, Sara jumped back, jet-black wings erupting from her back as she hovered a foot in the air. Yuuri gaped in surprise.

“My lord!” Sara exclaimed as she set herself back on the ground gently, the dishes on the tray she carried with her clinked quietly as she balanced them, “You startled me! What are you doing out of bed?”

It took a moment for Yuuri to recover. “I was going out to pick some plants,” he said rather lamely, his eyes still trained on Sara’s wings. Sara tutted and, balancing the tray on one hand, looped her arm through Yuuri’s and pulled him back into the room.

“You are newly bonded, my lord,” she scolded, her voice matter-of-fact, “and I am sure last night was quite tiring for you. His Lordship is young and healthy, after all.” Yuuri blushed furiously as Sara took him to a small table on the balcony outside the large glass windows and placed the tray on it. She pulled out one of the chairs and nudged Yuuri into it.

“You shouldn’t be moving around today,” she said, spreading a napkin on Yuuri’s lap and taking the things he still held in his hand, “You need to rest and get used to castle life first.”

“But the wounded men—” Yuuri began.

“Won’t be here for another few days.” Sara finished sternly. She pointed at the intimidating pile of food on the plate she had uncovered. “Now eat your breakfast.”

Dutifully, Yuuri picked up a knife and a fork. His stomach grumbled loudly and he realized that he was indeed hungry. Sara gave a satisfied nod as Yuuri dug into his breakfast, then turned and started to straighten the room.

“Sara?” Yuuri asked moments later around a mouthful of eggs.

“Yes, my lord?”

“Why do you have wings when others don’t?”

Sara paused in gathering the soiled sheets from the bed. Yuuri tried not to look at them, his face heating as he remembered exactly how they had been soiled.

“My lord, how much do you know about dragons?”

“Not much,” Yuuri admitted. His village hadn’t had many dealings with dragonkind and the few books he had managed to find were sorely lacking in information.

“Well!” Sara said brightly, “I will take it upon myself to educate you.” She continued with her tidying, happy to chatter about her people.

“As you saw yesterday, some dragons, like His Lordship, can transform fully into dragon form. It used to be that all dragons had that power, but over time, we started mingling with other species and most of us have lost that ability. His Lordship is, in fact, a very rare specimen. Only one other in our clan can transform fully.”

“Yuri Plisetsky?” Yuuri asked, remembering the loud boy he’d met yesterday.

“That’s right!” Sara beamed, happy that Yuuri remembered names. “It is tradition that only those dragons with the ability to transform lead the clans.”

Yuuri nodded, remembering that Victor had told him exactly that.

“In our clan, because Lord Yuri is still young and His Lordship is a peaceful sort, the transition will not be much of an issue when he wishes to step down. But in other clans, they have more dragons who can fully transform and succession usually involves bloodshed and fighting.”

Yuuri shivered, not wanting to think of Victor battling another dragon, his sparkling white hide torn and covered in blood.

“But back to your question, my lord.” Yuuri was glad to have his thoughts diverted.

“Most of the rest of the us have some dragon powers. I, for example, can call my wings into existence at will. I may not be able to fly much because they are rather small.” She turned, showing Yuuri her wings. They shimmered slightly, like the evening sky, but they extended only to the small of her back. “But I can lift myself into the air.”

Sara did so then, her wings flapping.

“It can be very handy at times,” she said as she floated around the bedchamber a few feet off the ground. “I can dust the top of the wardrobes and reach things in high places.”

Yuuri watched with avid interest.

“Our dragon blood doesn’t always manifest in wings, however,” she continued, setting herself onto the ground and letting her wings disappear, “Other dragonkin have different powers. The castle’s cook, for example, breathes fire like you’ve never seen before.”

“You’ll want to avoid her when she’s mad,” Sara advised after a thoughtful pause. Yuuri chuckled and took a bite of his toast.

“And my brother, Mickey,” Sara continued, “he doesn’t have wings but he has excellent vision. He’s now one of the lookout guards on permanent rotation.” Sara’s voice glowed with pride so Yuuri put a suitably impressed look on his face.

Done with her duties, Sara came to stand excitedly by the table.

“My lord,” she said earnestly, her eyes sparkling, “even with all of our powers, no dragon has the ability to heal like you do.” Yuuri felt rather uncomfortable with the way Sara was looking at him. It was a look akin to hero-worship.

“Thank you for agreeing to bond with His Lordship.” Yuuri nodded rather awkwardly, looking down at his plate. He didn’t want to remind Sara that their bond hadn’t been entirely consensual, or to point out that he wasn’t a particularly powerful Healer. “Everyone in the clan is so relieved to have you with us. We have lost too many already but with you here, we will finally have a fighting chance in this war.”

“What exactly is this war about?” Yuuri asked, half genuinely curious, half wanting only to stop Sara’s praise.

“His Lordship did not say?”

Yuuri felt his face heat. “We didn’t really…get around to talking about it.”

Sara nodded, unsurprised. “I don’t know if you have ever heard of the North Mountain King,” she said, pausing while Yuuri shook his head, “but he is a ruthless dragon clan leader who has it in his head to unite all the dragon clans—under his rule, of course—and then take over the rest of the species. Our clan has never caught his attention before because we are so small, but His Lordship is strong and our soldiers well-trained and word has spread about how prosperous our land is. Now rumor has it that the King has marked us as his next conquest. His Lordship sent men to scout out the King’s fortress so we could prepare, but they took too long to return, so he decided a healer was in order, not only to prepare for the scouting party’s return, but to give us a real chance in the fight against the King.”

So he had been recruited for a war against an enemy more terrifying than he could have imagined. Yuuri lost what remained of his appetite when Sara smiled at him, her hope and adoration palpable. He didn’t know if he could ever live up to her expectations. Dabbing his mouth with the napkin in his lap, he pushed his plate away and stood.

“I will do my best to help the clan,” Yuuri said formally, not feeling an ounce of the confidence he was injecting into his voice, “You have my word on that.”

Sara beamed at him and started to clear the table.

“On that note,” Yuuri continued, searching desperately for an excuse to leave the bedroom, which was starting to feel like a cage, “I must survey the land His Lordship owns and see what I can find that will aid me in my healing.”

Sara sighed but stipulated reluctantly that he could go outside today, as long as she went with him. Yuuri nodded quickly. He would agree to anything for fresh air and room to think.

They went first to the kitchens. Sara had planned to introduce Yuuri to the cook, but upon seeing a jet of red and black flames burst out the kitchen door accompanied by a roar, she opted instead to dash in and set the tray down before running back out of the kitchen, her apron covering her head. Makkachin dashed out with her and barked excitedly as she bounded towards Yuuri, snuffling her nose into his hand, eager for pets.

They fetched horses from the stables, Sara introducing Yuuri to all the clansmen they met along the way. His mind whirled with names and faces and he knew it would be a while before he could truly remember everyone. The way they looked at him made him nervous. Would he only disappoint them?

With Makkachin at their heels, they trotted out the castle gates and into the surrounding farmlands, already bustling with activity. This was Victor’s clan, Yuuri thought, and now it was his as well. He was surprised to see that the people they ran into looked happy and healthy, not at all what he had imagined, living in a time of war. Was it a product of Victor’s leadership? Or perhaps they were being kept in ignorance? Yuuri could only hope that he would be able to keep the smiles on their faces.

As they traveled to the outer reaches beyond the farms, to a place Sara had said grew the most wild foliage, she asked Yuuri about his abilities, her curiosity endless.

“What will you use the plants for, my lord?” They were far enough from the farms now that Yuuri could barely hear the shouts of the farmhands and the sounds of their animals. The light breeze that blew through his hair was soothing and cool under the heat of the sun.

“People came to our village for all sorts of healing,” Yuuri explained, “My powers don’t work on ailments like insomnia or memory loss, but my parents trained me in the use of herbs and plants to aid my abilities. I can make thing like salves or teas to help people when my powers can’t.”

“You really take your duties seriously, my lord,” Sara said admiringly.

“A power like mine should be used to its fullest,” Yuuri replied, puzzled when Sara smiled at him.

They reached a field at the edge of a forest, both bursting with flowers and trees and bushes. Yuuri dismounted distractedly, already taking in all the species he could see and realizing it would take him multiple trips to collect all that he wanted to have on hand. Makkachin barked and gamboled about excitedly, glad to be next to Yuuri again, until he scratched her under the ear and she sat down, panting.

They spread a large blanket on the ground under the shade of a towering tree and Yuuri arranged a grid of clean white cloths he pulled from his satchel. He would separate the plants they picked into piles; some would be dried, some would be crushed into pastes, and some would be soaked and bottled for future use.

Victor’s lands were near enough to Yuuri’s village that he had no trouble identifying the plants and teaching Sara exactly how to find what he wanted to gather and what to avoid. With their baskets at the ready, they set about collecting the plants Yuuri had on his list for the day. Slowly, the piles on the blanket grew as the day wore on and Yuuri felt himself relaxing, the familiar tasks soothing him and reminding him that he’d been brought here to do what he did best: heal.

When they finally stopped for a late luncheon—a platter of sandwiches and fruit brought out to them in a hamper—Yuuri was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. He surveyed the mounds of plants on their linen squares, a pile of roots here, leaves there, and he smiled. He was satisfied with the start they had made to his herb stores, and it would last him until the next time he would be free to collect more.

They ate silently, too hungry from the morning’s work to chat. Even Makkachin was quiet as she ate from her bowl of food, her tail wagging furiously behind her.

A shout from across the field had Yuuri half rising, his hand on the hilt of the sword he had strapped to his hips. His hips twinged in protest at his sudden movement. Sara rose in alarm when he did, but after a glance at the approaching figures, sat back down.

“Don’t worry, my lord. It’s only Mila, Lord Yuri, and his grandfather,” she said, “They’re waving at us.”

Yuuri relaxed and let go of his sword. He squinted at the approaching riders and managed to distinguish the bright red hair of Victor’s lieutenant—the one who’d held him at swordpoint—as well as a blonde figure who had to be Yuri Plisetsky. There was no one else in the clan with hair that color. The third figure he couldn’t recognize, but Sara’s dragon vision was far superior to his, so he trusted her word.

In no time, the trio had arrived and dismounted, tying their horses next to Yuuri’s and Sara’s, where they contentedly grazed on the grass and flicked their tails in the shade.

“Good afternoon, my lord, Sara,” Mila said as she bowed. Yuri’s grandfather repeated the greeting and, doffing his cap, introduced himself as Nikolai Plisetsky. Yuri, on the other hand, merely grunted until his grandfather shot him a stern look. Scolded, he offered the briefest of nods to them both. After Yuuri and Sara returned their greetings, they sat down next to them on the blanket and Yuuri offered them some of the remaining sandwiches in the hamper.

“My lord,” Mila began as she took a bite of sandwich, “I must warn you that you are too far from the safety of the castle. It would take some time for even our swiftest riders to come to your aid.” Yuuri shrugged and patted his sword.

“I can hold my own with a blade,” he said, “Long enough for help to arrive, at the very least.” Mila frowned but didn’t say more.

“You can use a sword?” Yuri asked, the interest evident in his voice, “Are you any good?”

“I think I do alright,” Yuuri said, unsure of how to categorize himself against dragons, who must surely be more skilled than he was. Yuuri was surprised to see Yuri looking at him with excitement.

“The other soldiers won’t spar with me,” Yuri said, “They say I’m too young and I could get hurt. But it’s boring always practicing swordsmanship with Mila.” Yuuri was puzzled.

“Mila has extraordinary strength,” Sara whispered to Yuuri, “She beats him every time.” Yuuri nodded, finally understanding the point Yuri was working his way towards.

“You want me to practice with you?” he asked and Yuri nodded. Yuuri glanced at Nikolai who, thus far, hadn’t spoken a word after he’d greeted them. Nikolai shrugged and clapped his hand on his grandson’s back, almost sending him sprawling on the blanket.

“I suppose I could use the practice,” Yuuri said hesitantly, “it being a time of war and all that…” Yuri gave a little cheer and gustily gobbled down a second sandwich.

Leisurely, they finished the rest of the food in the hamper and sat around relaxing and digesting until Yuuri dug some small paper-wrapped objects out from his satchel and passed them around.

“What is this?” Yuri asked, sniffing at his while he unwrapped it from the paper. He glanced around and only put it in his mouth when everyone else had eaten theirs without protest. Then promptly made a face and spat it right back onto the paper wrapping.

“That’s foul!” he cried, glaring daggers at Yuuri when the others laughed.

“It’s licorice candy,” Yuuri said by way of explanation as he chuckled.

“It is very good, Yura,” Nikolai said, his voice gravelly with affection, patting Yuri soothingly on the head, “I like it.” Mila and Sara nodded in agreement.

Yuri looked suspiciously down at the candy he’d spat out and Yuuri took pity on him. He reached into a different pocket and pulled out more candy, passing them around again.

“Try this one instead,” he said, “It’s peppermint.”

Yuri unwrapped the new candy and licked it suspiciously. His eyes widened with delight and he popped the whole candy into his mouth.

“This one’s nicer,” he said, sounding pleased, “It’s like breathing ice when I’m in dragon form.”

“Did you bring this from your village, my lord?” Mila asked, “I have never had anything like it before.”

Yuuri nodded. “We’re quite fond of candy in my village. In fact, I made these two batches myself.” He paused. “I find that children prefer a peppermint candy after they’ve been given herbal medicine.” Yuri frowned and grumbled something about the peppermint tasting better while the others snickered.

“I’m sure the clan’s children would love to help you make candy, my lord.” Sara said brightly.

They chattered as they gathered up the remains of their luncheon. Yuuri gingerly stacked his piles of plants on white linen into the baskets, handing one to Sara after she’d mounted her horse and holding the other himself. As a group, they rode back to the castle, Makkachin following behind, and Yuuri felt a sense of comradery as they went. Already, he was starting to learn things about the inhabitants of his new home.

He could see, for instance, how fiercely proud Nikolai was of his grandson. And the way Yuri clung to him told Yuuri that Nikolai’s regard was returned in full force. Yuuri wondered as he watched them interact, what had happened to Yuri’s parents, but he put the thought aside for when Victor returned.

Yuuri could also see that Mila took her position seriously. She was always on the lookout for danger and kept an alert, watchful eye on the troops under her command, as well on Yuri, whom she was in charge of training. But she was still young for a dragon and not above teasing Yuri as she trained him, or against gossiping excitedly with Sara about clansmen and the castle inhabitants. Yuuri hoped that in time, he would be as familiar with them all as they were with each other.

When they reached the castle, they parted ways. Mila headed towards the barracks, and Yuri and Nikolai to another wing of the castle, where their rooms were housed. Sara led Yuuri up a long, sweeping staircase to a room she described as an unused sunroom. It was wide and spacious, with tall windows lining the walls that reminded Yuuri of Victor’s bedroom.

“His Lordship had this room readied for you,” Sara said, “I oversaw its cleaning and furnishing myself after His Lordship’s orders came to us.” Yuuri nodded his thanks, rather awestruck at how nicely the room had turned out. Several chairs, each looking comfier than the last, were spread around the room. Accompanying them were large wooden tables, a few colorful rugs, and two long bookcases. One had already been stocked with books, while the other stood empty and waiting for Yuuri to put things on its shelves. The overall effect was homey and open, and Yuuri could tell already that he would be very comfortable here.

“That connecting door leads to His Lordship’s study,” Sara said, pointing out a heavy wooden door set into the side of the room while he walked around examining all the furniture.

“Thank you, Sara,” Yuuri said, smiling at her, “I’m grateful for all that you have done these past two days.”

Sara beamed and waved away his gratitude. “Oh, pish posh,” she said, “It was no trouble at all, my lord. I am just glad His Lordship found you.”

They took the plants from their baskets and spread them out evenly on the tables, directly under the sunlight that poured in from the enormous windows. With all the space in the sunroom—so vastly larger than his small cramped workroom at his village—Yuuri had more than enough surfaces to set up everything he needed to make his various salves and tinctures. He couldn’t have hoped for a better area in which to work on his medicines.

With the plants laid out to his satisfaction, Sara left to attend to her other duties and Yuuri headed back to Victor’s— no, his—bedroom to wash and change for dinner. The silence of the cavernous room was at once calming and unnerving. He sat himself down at the table he’d eaten breakfast at that morning and propped his chin in his hand, staring out at the landscape, watching as the sun threw brilliant fiery glows across the sky as it set. Slowly, he let the thoughts that he had pushed away since he had left the village filter into his mind.

Had his family returned to the village yet? He knew they had been a few days out but surely a rider had been sent to inform them of the news. Would they come charging after him? Would they understand his decision and the necessity behind it? He was worried they would show up with the village’s small band of fighters and demand his return. He knew his family loved him and that they would do anything to keep him safe, but he couldn’t allow them to risk their own safety when he wasn’t in immediate danger. He knew Victor would keep him safe.

At the thought of Victor, Yuuri worried at his bottom lip. He wasn’t sure how he would face him when he returned. After meeting some of the members of his clan, Yuuri could understand the fierce lengths to which Victor had gone to to protect them. During his chats with Sara and Mila and Nikolai, he’d learned more about the war to which they’d alluded. They hadn’t said much more than Sara had that morning, but it was enough to tell Yuuri that Victor’s small clan of dragons had been nearly decimated.

Their numbers were lower than they had ever been and they couldn’t afford any more losses, especially if the rumors were true that they were next on the King’s list. Yuuri was a savior to them, the last beacon of hope that a desperate leader had managed to bring home. He wanted most of all not to disappoint them.

Yuuri hoped Victor was staying safe as he searched for his men. If anything happened to him…the thought made his chest ache. He couldn’t fathom never seeing Victor’s handsome face again. Though he had only known him for a day, it had already become a familiar sight. He sent a prayer out to the world that Victor would stay safe and hoped that any higher forces listening in would hear it.

The dinner gong sounded in the courtyard below the balcony and Yuuri turned and hurried to wipe himself down and change into a clean set of clothes. Without Victor as a buffer, he would have to face the clansmen and the troops that ate in the hall alone. Squaring his shoulders, he opened the bedroom door and headed down the stairs.

Dinner was a raucous affair, the castle’s inhabitants had held back the night before out of respect for Yuuri’s unfamiliarity with them. But after that day, when most of them had exchanged greetings with Yuuri or spoken to him about little matters, they considered him part of the clan. Yuuri was included in every conversation, every disagreement, and his lordly opinion was solicited on all of their decisions.

The attention was overwhelming and, after giving his opinion on the placement of a new flower bed, the date for a binding ceremony, and the names of three children and a cow, Yuuri was glad to excuse himself from the table. Leaving Makkachin under his chair where she had fallen asleep, he headed to his bedroom. Sara, as if sensing that he needed privacy, had filled the tub with hot water and set clean robes on an adjacent chair, before she left him to his own devices.

Yuuri undressed and sat down in the steaming tub, letting out a long sigh as the hot water soaked his tired limbs and eased the strain on his neck and shoulders, as well as the soreness in his lower back and legs. He hadn’t been around so many people so interested in his every word in a very long time. His villagers had understood, or at least they had known, that he was a generally private person who preferred the quiet.

Grabbing a small piece of soap that had been placed in a dish by the tub, Yuuri soaped his arms and hair. The light floral scent wafted pleasantly around him, perfuming the puffs of steam that rose off the water’s surface.

A sudden memory of Victor in this very position flashed through his mind and he flushed. He tried to push it away, but the memory continued unheeding. Yuuri gave up trying to fight it and let his mind recall Victor standing by the tub, drying himself off, his body bare and on display in all its glory. Yuuri closed his eyes, biting his lower lip as he thought about what had happened next, how Victor had introduced him to all the sensations he never knew his body would be capable of.

Under the water, his hand crept slowly down towards his hardening cock, the soap having left his skin soft and pliable. He gripped himself in one hand, the other reaching up to pinch a peaked nipple, pretending it was Victor’s mouth. Yuuri let out a soft moan and he closed his eyes, stroking himself, the images in his mind turning lurid.

He remembered how it had felt to have Victor’s mouth on him, the way his tongue had worked at Yuuri’s shaft, lapping over the sensitive tip of his head. He remembered the way Victor had entered him, the way his stomach had spasmed from pleasure. He remembered hearing his own name moaned into his ear in increasingly frantic, increasingly breathless tones.

Yuuri’s hand moved faster, the water in the tub splashing with his vigorous movements. His other hand had migrated down as well and experimentally, he stroked his entrance with a finger. He was still sore from the night before and even that light touch made him shiver. Slowly, he pushed in a single finger, remembering the way Victor had stroked inside him.

He worked up the courage to insert two fingers inside himself, thrusting them back and forth as he pumped at his cock. But it wasn’t the same. Victor had been so much more and Yuuri’s fingers weren’t enough, couldn’t quite reach. He longed to be filled, stretched to the point of pain, thrust inside so deeply, that there was no room for doubt that he wanted it. But he couldn’t do it alone.

With an frustrated moan, he stroked himself until he came, his orgasm no longer as satisfying as it had once been. Not now that he had experienced what Victor had to offer. Angry at himself, confused by how quickly his opinions had been altered, he rinsed himself off and changed into a sleeping robe.

He sat by the fireplace, letting his hair dry and telling himself over and over that theirs was not a normal bonding. He couldn’t be this dependent on Victor so soon, especially when neither of them had any emotional investment in their union. A sliver of anger at Victor wormed its way into Yuuri’s chest. Anger at him for leaving so soon after their night together, for not even giving Yuuri time to adjust to the situation. Yuuri knew he was being unreasonable, knew that it had been a matter of life and death. But just for a moment, he let himself be selfish.

There was scratching at the door and Yuuri went to open it, to find Makkachin sitting outside it, looking at Yuuri hopefully, her tail wagging gently behind her. With a huff and a smile, Yuuri let her in and she bounded immediately onto the bed, curling herself into a ball where Victor had laid the night before.

Yuuri climbed in after her, arranging the blankets to cover them both. He couldn’t do anything about Victor now, he decided, but he would be sure to tell Victor exactly what he thought about him and his actions once he returned. Makkachin burrowed deeper into the blankets, pressing along Yuuri’s side and he smiled, glad he didn’t have to sleep alone in the large bed again.

The next few days, Yuuri knew, would be filled with much of the same. He would set up a routine for himself: gathering herbs, making medicine, practicing swordsmanship with Yuri, talking with clanspeople. And waiting for Victor. He’d make his place in this clan and try to help it as best as he could. He rubbed at his steadily aching chest, Victor’s face flashing through his mind.

“Come home soon.” Yuuri whispered into the darkened room, even though he knew Victor couldn’t hear him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> In case anyone is curious, I put together my timeline for writing this fic. I'm actually very surprised at the amount of time spent on some parts haha... (￣▽￣*)ゞ
> 
> 2017-03-26 Fic idea conceived; notes and snippets are jotted down whenever inspiration strikes  
> 2018-05-18 Asked tako to beta and gave a 8/15 deadline to turn in fic (yes, it took me over a year to even get serious about writing this...)  
> 2018-07-16 Fic writing begins (I'm a huge procrastinator; didn't even give myself a full month to write...)  
> 2018-08-20 Fic writing ends; begin first edit  
> 2018-08-28 Complete first edit; fic sent for first beta  
> 2018-10-08 First beta complete (my beta is very busy); begin second edit  
> 2018-10-13 Complete second edit; begin final edit  
> 2018-10-15 Final edit complete  
> 2018-10-16 Fic posted!


	5. Chapter 5

Mickey spotted them first. Victor could see his small figure on a watchtower wave to them and then run for the horn to announce their arrival. He blew it and the sound echoed, long and low, a welcoming noise to Victor’s ears. All through the castle, torches were lit and Victor’s clansmen crowded out of their rooms, throwing open the castle gates.

The riders clattered to a standstill in the courtyard, jumping down from their horses before they’d fully stopped. Gingerly, the injured men were plucked from their perches and laid on wooden slats, carried by fellow clansmen, and taken to a room next to the kitchens that had been cleared and kitted into an infirmary. The riders were ushered away to clean up and be fed.

Victor transformed and hit the ground running, chasing after the injured men. He waved away the people who tried to help him, pushing towards him food and towels. He was focused only on saving his men.

Right as the horn had begun to blow, he had heard one of them stutter in their breathing and the sound had shaken him to his bones.

“Wake His Lordship!” Victor called to Sara, who had appeared at the castle gates, her eyes wide at the activity in the courtyard. She nodded and fled, racing up the stairs to Victor’s bedchamber, her wings out to help push her faster.

Victor entered the makeshift infirmary and immediately scooted to the side, pressing himself flat against the wall as a clansman rushed past him, his arms stacked high with clean toweling.

The room was in chaos. Each injured man had been placed on a mattress stuffed plump with hay, and around every one of them, a crowd of people gathered. Family members, friends, and clansmen who wanted simply to offer help all jostled each other for space.

Behind Victor came a whiff of floral soap and warm sleep, and even before he turned, he knew it was Yuuri. He was a heavenly vision for Victor, who had been starved for far too long without a glimpse of him. He strode in wrapped in the blue robe Victor had picked out for him, his feet hurriedly shoved into his riding boots, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Where are the injured?” Yuuri asked, blinking adorably against the bright torches lit around the room. Then Yuuri saw him and Victor was fascinated by the rapid play of emotions on his face: surprise, delight, a flash of sadness, and finally, worry. Victor knit his brows. What had he done to scare Yuuri?

“You’re hurt,” Yuuri said, his voice low and distressed. He reached out tentatively towards Victor’s chest and Victor glanced down, realizing how he must look. Four nights without a bath or a change of clothing, all of them spent on horseback or in a cave, smeared all over with dirt and grime and the blood of his men.

He caught Yuuri’s hand in his and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of Yuuri’s fingers. Yuuri almost smiled, the worry on his face lifting just a shade.

“It’s not my blood,” Victor murmured and when Yuuri’s eyes softened, he couldn’t help but smile hopefully in return, “I’m home, Yuuri.”

“W-welcome home.” Yuuri blushed lightly, the soft pink color on his cheeks darkening. Then he glanced towards the rest of the room and all color drained from his face. Victor let his hand drop and as one, they turned and hurried forward. Victor let Yuuri lead, as this was his area of expertise.

“What do we do, Yuuri?” Victor asked urgently, “Tell us.”

Yuuri blinked rapidly. Victor could see the wheels turning in his head. He knew Yuuri wasn’t used to giving orders but his desire to heal overtook it quickly.

“Strip them,” Yuuri said, raising his voice to be heard above the din in the room, “And wash them as clean as you can. We need those wounds fresh and uncovered.” The room rushed into motion as Yuuri turned to a passing maid and told her to wake the cook and start boiling water.

“Lots of it,” Yuuri added as he rolled up his sleeves. Another maid was sent to fetch his satchel from their bedroom and a third to keep the gathering crowds outside the infirmary at bay.

Quickly, efficiently, the men were stripped of their armor and clothing. With the dirt and caked-on grime and blood from their journey, nothing could be salvaged. Boots were methodically cut from their legs, garments ripped open as expediently as possible and tossed to the floor.

Vaguely, Victor registered the sound of the kitchen coming to life behind him. Minako’s roar rumbled the walls and a flare of heat against his back told him the cooking fires had been lit and the pots of water were starting to boil. When the first of the pots were brought out, Yuuri directed the crowds in wiping down each man as well as they could.

Lingering bits of rocks or dirt had to be removed lest they fester and infect the wounds. At each man’s bedside, a clansman was designated to feed them water, as much as they could manage to keep down.

Yuuri darted between the tables, pointing out missed spots of grime and checking on the conditions of each of his patients. Victor stayed where he was, out of Yuuri’s way, admiring the swiftness with which he directed his men. He could see, as the men were cleaned, that Georgi and Leo were both awake and lucid, in high spirits considering their predicaments, happy to be home.

But the other two were still. Emil’s breathing was steady but he didn’t wake. And JJ…Victor swallowed against the fear in his throat. JJ’s breathing was shallow, his wounds barely leaked blood, even when freshly cleaned. Victor didn’t know if he would make it. The woman at his bedside, his betrothed, was grimly spooning water into his mouth, ignoring when it dripped out again, little streams that pooled on his neck and ran down to the mattress.

“My lord!” a man shouted from beside Georgi’s pallet, waving Yuuri over, “We’re ready over here.” Yuuri rushed over but Georgi shook his head, his eyes, too, trained on JJ’s still form.

“No, my lord,” he said, his deep voice sure, “JJ needs you most.” Yuuri followed his line of sight, his lips tightening, and hurried over to JJ’s pallet. For a moment, he stood unmoving, just watching as JJ took labored breaths. Then, almost in a panic, he turned and frantically caught Victor’s eye.

In a flash, Victor rushed over and pulled him aside.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice low, half turning to shield Yuuri from the curious, desperate looks JJ’s fiancée, Isabella, was throwing him. Yuuri was breathing hard, almost panting. Victor could feel the racing of his heart against his palm and in his own chest.

“Yuuri, what is it?”

“I don’t think I can do this,” Yuuri blurted out in a rush, his words jumbled together.

“Do what? Heal JJ?” Yuuri nodded jerkily, staring at Victor’s blood-smeared chest plate.

“Why not?” Victor asked, genuinely puzzled. Yuuri was a Healer, wasn’t he? Surely he had healed people besides himself before?

Yuuri shook his head. “He’s so close,” he whispered, “I don’t know if I am strong enough to bring him back.”

Victor gently took Yuuri by the chin, forcing him to look into his eyes.

“You are the strongest man I know,” Victor said, “Who else but you would stand up to me, a dragon lord, and refuse to call me by my title without flinching?” Yuuri let out a desperate laugh, his lips trembling. “Who else but you would agree to be bonded to me, a man who threatened your entire village, just to save them? No one is as strong as you are.” Yuuri’s eyes shimmered with moisture.

“But I failed before,” he whispered, “What if I fail again?”

“You won’t,” Victor said sternly. He didn’t know how he could reassure Yuuri. He only knew, with absolute certainty, that he had the utmost faith in him and his abilities.

“I wish I had your strength of will,” Yuuri said with a small, sad smile.

“Everything I have is yours.”

Fiercely, Victor crushed their lips together, diving deep into Yuuri’s mouth with his tongue, imbuing him with all the hope and willpower that had kept him sane for the last hellish days. It was desperate and rough, his hand would leave marks on Yuuri’s face. But it was what he needed, Victor knew, if not his faith in himself, then Victor’s faith in him.

When Yuuri kissed him back, nipping and biting, Victor knew he had been freed from his doubts. Finally, they parted, panting, Yuuri’s eyes were stormy and alive, almost shining in their intensity. With a breath, he turned back to JJ’s pallet, immediately placing his hands, one atop the other, directly over JJ’s chest. Victor stepped up behind him, his mind still reeling from their kiss, the imprint of it still on his lips, and placed his hand over the back of Yuuri’s neck, letting him know he was there with him.

As if on cue, the crowd gathered around JJ’s cot stepped back. Only Isabella remained, JJ’s limp hand clutched between her own.

Yuuri closed his eyes and for a single moment, a clear, wondrous silence flowed from him. All sound ceased until the only thing Victor could hear, the only thing that was real, was their heartbeat, slow and steady. Then the sounds of the castle rushed back at Victor and he almost swayed on his feet before he managed to hold himself still.

Yuuri’s hair was flying, blown about by a wind only he could feel. JJ’s chest under his hands was turning red, as if he had been under the sun for too long. From their point of contact, color was slowly spreading through his body again, his skin changing from a deathly white to a warmer tone.

Victor felt Yuuri’s neck tense against his hand and he squeezed, trying to ease the pressure. In a flash, the bondmarks on Yuuri’s arms burst into brilliant color, so bright, they threw blue stripes against the walls of the room. With a collective cry, the crowd around them ducked, as if under attack. Victor’s eyes watered but he couldn’t look away. Yuuri was his mate and this was his power.

This was him.

From the corners of his eyes, he could see his own bondmarks glimmering softly on his arms through the slashed fabric of his sleeves. The wind that only Yuuri had felt was blowing at him now too. And it was warm, balmy like a summer breeze, bringing with it the feeling of laughter and life.

The wind lifted the hems of their clothing in a frenzied dance, growing to a maelstrom before, just as suddenly as it had begun, it died away and JJ was coughing against the water in his mouth, his eyes opening blearily. With a cry of joy, Isabella was hugging him and sobbing against his chest, now a light red where Yuuri’s hands had been, but whole and unmarked, the wounds that had slashed across his body before had faded into the faintest hints of scars.

Victor gaped openly, his only comfort derived from the fact that no one was looking at their awestruck lord. The entire room had their eyes trained on JJ, who was even now smiling up at Isabella, looking as hale and hearty as he had looked before he left on the scouting mission, if extraordinarily tired. Isabella, after seeing JJ fall into a natural, healing sleep, finally let go his hand and flung herself at Yuuri, hugging him so tightly, Victor could feel how difficult it was for him to breathe.

“Thank you, my lord,” Isabella sobbed, her voice breaking, “Thank you for saving him.” Yuuri awkwardly patted her on the back, murmuring nonsense, and Victor smiled. He knew Yuuri had it in him.

Isabella left with JJ being carried on a wooden slat by her side, a packet of teas from Yuuri’s satchel in her hand, and instructions to take JJ home to rest properly. Yuuri turned to Georgi again at the adjacent table. Georgi eyed him excitedly, his face gleaming with sweat. Victor guessed the pain from his wounds was growing stronger and winced in sympathy. Yuuri started forward but stopped when Georgi shook his head.

“Save me for last, my lord,” he said as he laid back down, “My men first, before you tire.” Victor turned his eyes to Yuuri, studying him critically as he walked towards Emil, still unmoving and unconscious. Yuuri didn’t look tired exactly, Victor thought, but the fire that had filled him earlier had dimmed. His eyes were still bright and alert, his movements swift and crisp.

Yuuri repeated his healing process on Emil, with Victor positioned behind him, his hand a soothing presence on his neck. When Emil opened his eyes, his sudden grin bright, many in the crowd laughed along, their hope replenished, their awe in Yuuri’s abilities growing by the minute. Victor heard a quiet sigh and watched as Yuuri closed his eyes, tipping his head back as he rolled his shoulders.

The torchlight gleamed on the long line of his pale throat. Victor squeezed the muscles on the back of his neck, moving his fingers slowly in a circle. Yuuri let out a soft groan as his head fell forward. The sound shot straight to Victor’s groin and he could feel his dragon-half perk its head up in interest. But he mentally slapped himself. This wasn’t the time or the place. When all his men were safe and sound and he and Yuuri were alone, only then could they decide to indulge.

“Do you want to take a break?” Victor murmured. The strain from healing two fully grown dragonkin from near-death to full health was starting to show. Light smudges had appeared under Yuuri’s eyes and he leaned against Victor as he stood, using his arm for support and balance.

Yuuri shook his head. “I’m only halfway through,” he said. Victor frowned into his hair but didn’t fight when Yuuri pushed himself up and continued to Leo’s bedside, after listening with a smile to Emil’s profuse gratitude. He, too, was taken from the infirmary, stocked with herbs, to cheers from the crowd still outside.

“My lord, please don’t overwork yourself,” Leo said as he laid back and Yuuri placed his hands on his chest. This time, Victor kept a firm grip on Yuuri’s arm, feeling the slight tremors there as Yuuri poured his healing powers into Leo. Before his eyes, Victor watched as Leo’s wounds knit themselves together and grew new skin, leaving him as unscarred and unmarked as he had ever been. Yuuri sagged against Victor’s hand when he finished with Leo, panting and drooping, but still gracious and smiling as Leo thanked him.

The room slowly emptied until only Georgi and his small contingent of helpers were left. Georgi waited until the door had closed behind Leo.

“My lord,” Georgi said, concern written across his face even as he winced from pain, “I don’t think you should heal me tonight. I will be fine until tomorrow after you are rested.” Victor knew without looking that Yuuri was frowning, knew that he would refuse.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Yuuri tutted. Victor almost grinned at the comical look on Georgi’s face— he’d never been told before that he was ridiculous.

“I am only a little tired, but I can heal you just fine.”

Georgi nodded. “I am grateful for any help you can offer me, my lord.” He settled back and Yuuri rested his hands on his chest. Victor wrapped an arm around his waist, feeling Yuuri’s fatigue in every fiber of his being, in every tired thump of his own heart. But he knew this was a test for Yuuri, a test to prove the strength of his abilities and the wisdom in Victor having chosen him as a mate. A display for the clan, for Victor, for himself.

Yuuri took longer this time. Halfway through he was out of breath, but he didn’t let himself stop. Not until the last slash in Georgi’s side had closed and the newly formed skin had healed over it. It was agonizing for Victor to watch, and for him to do nothing but stand as a prop to keep Yuuri upright. When finally, the last of the wind faded and Yuuri lifted his hands from Georgi’s chest, he stumbled backwards into Victor and immediately collapsed.

Victor caught him in his arms, hooking a hand under his knees and lifting him into the air, cradled against his chest. Georgi sat up, alarmed.

“Is His Lordship alright?” he exclaimed.

“You little fool,” Victor whispered into Yuuri’s hair as his head nestled gently against his arm. He had pushed himself too hard, too far beyond his limits. But still Victor was oddly, desperately proud.

“He’s fine,” Victor said, “He just needs to sleep.” Georgi nodded uncertainly, then allowed himself to be dressed and led from the room. Sara hovered worriedly by the doorway, her hands fluttering helplessly in front of her apron.

“Thank the kitchen staff for us, will you?” Victor asked. Sara nodded vigorously, then ran to hold the door open for him. Victor stepped through and was mobbed immediately by excited, ecstatic clansmen. But at his glare, they quieted to a one, their joyous looks turning to worry as they spotted Yuuri unconscious in his arms. Victor smiled to soften the effect.

“He’s just tired, everyone,” he said, “Please go about your day quietly so as not to wake His Lordship.” The clansmen all nodded, some saluting Victor, some bowing.

“I will bring him down when he is awake.” With that said, Victor pivoted and climbed the stairs to their bedroom, the sounds of clansmen tiptoeing out of the castle barely penetrated his ears.

At some point during the healing, Sara had filled the giant copper tub with hot water for them. The steam rising off the surface was immensely inviting. Victor stripped out of his clothing, piling it all in a corner far from the rest of the room, where his sensitive dragon nose wouldn’t smell the blood and grime. Picking up Yuuri again from where he had laid him on the bed, he divested him of his robe and boots and carried his gently to the tub, settling himself against one end, Yuuri’s unconscious form draped against his chest.

He scrubbed himself clean, liberally applying soap to every inch of skin he possessed. Yuuri he washed more gently, with slow strokes and soft splashes, until all the blood was gone and they were both as fresh as the day they had been born. The sight of a wet Yuuri was doing things to his body but he was too tired to give in to his lecherous thoughts. He didn’t want to disturb Yuuri from the sleep that he obviously needed.

He dried them both and laid Yuuri gently on the bed before snuggling under the blankets next to him, and pulling him into his arms. Just as they had the night they had first made love, Victor cradled Yuuri’s head against his arm and buried his face into his hair. One-handed, he grabbed the blankets, arranging them in a warm cocoon around their bodies.

With a kiss on Yuuri’s forehead and a tired but contented sigh, Victor closed his eyes and slept, happy to finally be home.

 

* * *

He was floating in a pool of water. Quietly, gently, it lapped at his sides, small pulsing waves that pushed him back and forth with the current. The water was wonderfully warm, like a caress, a heated touch against his skin. He was comforted by it. He was…

Aroused.

A small wave flowed over his hips, along his front, the water sliding against his burgeoning erection like a touch. The water had weight now and it pushed against him, drawing a soft groan from his throat. Back and forth, the water slid along his shaft, the pressure making him gasp.

Victor opened his eyes.

Straddled atop his hips, Yuuri sat with his eyes squeezed shut, biting his lower lip, his hips moving slowly, achingly, in an age-old rhythm as he slid his erect, burning cock against Victor’s.

Still blinking, Victor ran his hands up Yuuri’s firm, satiny thighs, caressing them lovingly before settling in the dip in his waist, encircling them with his fingers. Yuuri was so slim that his fingers almost touched. Victor found it unbearably erotic how much smaller Yuuri was than he, yet not so small that he couldn’t fit Victor inside, all of him.

His dragon-half roared for a brief moment, its interest piqued, dark thoughts threatening to invade his mind, but Victor pushed it away for another time. He concentrated instead on lifting his hips in time to Yuuri’s movements, letting their cocks slip wetly past each other, moistened from the liquid seeping from both of their tips.

“Victor,” Yuuri panted, his gaze dazed and soft, “I missed you so much.” Victor smiled tenderly.

“I missed you, too,” he said huskily. Yuuri shook his head and Victor frowned.

“I missed you  _ inside me, _ ” Yuuri clarified and Victor chuckled.

“I have only been inside you once,” he said, “How could you miss me?”

Yuuri leaned forward, pressing their hips together, letting Victor’s cock rub against his abdomen, and touched his lips to Victor’s ear. Victor hissed out a breath, closing his eyes with a shiver.

“I have thought of you inside me a thousand times.” Victor almost came right then. His hands spasmed on Yuuri’s waist and he let out a long, shuddery breath, biting his lip as he fought it. He couldn’t come so soon, he thought wildly, Yuuri needed him.

“Then put me inside you,” he managed to choke out when he was sufficiently recovered. He almost died when Yuuri smiled, his lips plump and moistened from his teeth, the look on his face at once shy and seductive, filled with promise. Yuuri lifted himself away from Victor, leaning forward even more to reach a stoppered bottle of scented oil on the nightstand by the bed.

As he stretched, Yuuri’s perfect pink nipples pointed temptingly at him and with a groan, Victor slid his hands up Yuuri’s back and pulled him close, sucking a nipple into his mouth. Yuuri cried out, his hands flying to entangle themselves into Victor’s hair, pressing him against his chest. Victor nibbled and suckled at the nipple in his mouth like the ripest, juiciest berry. Long, lingering strokes with his tongue alternated with playful nips, until Yuuri was moaning, involuntarily rubbing the tip of his cock against the ridges on Victor’s stomach.

When Victor thought he had properly lavished that nipple with attention, he switched to the other and abused it until it was a pretty dark red and Yuuri was clinging helplessly to him, boneless. Yuuri slid down his front, Victor’s cock nestling snugly against his bottom. He could feel his tip nudge against Yuuri’s tight entrance, the contact electric. He groaned and blindly, he reached for Yuuri, pulling his face up to his and pressed endless drugging kisses to his swollen lips.

They battled for dominance, and then they battled to breathe until, panting, Yuuri pushed him away. With a firm hand, he pressed against Victor’s chest, made him lay back down on the bed, to stare wild-eyed up at him.

“Stay,” Yuuri gasped, “I want to be in control today.” Victor nodded, dazed. The way the afternoon sun lit Yuuri’s side, casting shadows on the planes and dips of his body was awe-inducing. Yuuri leaned forward, finally securing the bottle of oil he had tried for earlier. Victor admired the way his wet nipples sparkled in the light and licked his lips, wanting to taste them again.

Settling back down, his creamy legs still straddled around Victor’s hips, Yuuri unstoppered the bottle and poured a generous drizzle of oil straight onto Victor’s cock. Victor bucked involuntarily at the sensation before Yuuri shot him a mulish glare and he subsided.

With both hands, Yuuri spread the oil over Victor’s cock, working it into every vein along his shaft, under every crevice and curve. His hands were a man’s hands, but against Victor’s cock, they looked so small. Victor groaned, feeling himself growing even larger and firmer, the slide of Yuuri’s hands sending his thoughts whirling into chaotic clouds of bursting color.

With one hand slowly stroking along Victor’s cock—the movement so hypnotic that Victor couldn’t look away—Yuuri brought the other behind himself. Victor craned his neck to see, his hands fisting into the sheets. Obligingly, Yuuri lifted his hips and Victor died a thousand deaths as he watched Yuuri slide his oiled fingers back and forth inside himself, preparing to take Victor’s cock.

Victor was leaking steadily, strings of his seed sliding from his reddened tip on to his stomach, covered in excess oil. Yuuri lifted his heavy cock and settled himself atop it, letting it brush against his entrance as he moaned. Then he slowly slid himself down, impaling himself on Victor.

Though they had used a liberal amount of oil and Yuuri was eager and spreading himself with his hands, it was still an agonizing slide, so tight that Victor’s eyes rolled into the back of his skull. Seeing how much trouble it was for Yuuri to fully fit him only served to make Victor swell even more, and their joining rougher. They both gasped when Yuuri finally had Victor fully sheathed, his bottom hitting Victor’s hips and the vibrations from the impact searing through them.

Experimentally, Yuuri lifted himself up, letting Victor slide out from him with a groan, and then sat back down, hard. The effect was electric and Victor couldn’t look away as Yuuri trembled, his head thrown back, hands curling helplessly against Victor’s chest. Victor grabbed them, entwining their fingers. Breathing heavily, he lifted Yuuri’s hand to his lips and pressed a desperate kiss to his knuckle.

“Use me,” Victor begged, “Please.” He wanted—no, he needed—to see Yuuri let go, to watch him work himself until he shattered around his cock. Yuuri nodded and, using their entwined hands as leverage, started to move. He was slow at first, still unused to the rhythm, unsure of how far to rise before settling back down. He was still searching for the right place to press Victor’s cock against.

But Yuuri was a fast learner and soon he was bouncing at a regular rhythm, moaning as Victor’s cock rubbed inside him, against his secret spot, over and over. His own cock bobbed freely, sending sprays of his pre-come across Victor’s stomach and chest. Victor felt wildly possessive of every stray droplet that landed on his skin. Yuuri’s hands spasmed against his, his knuckles turning white as he gripped.

Every stilted breath Yuuri took, every cry that left his mouth, every wet slap of flesh against flesh drove Victor closer and closer to the edge. But he couldn’t let go until Yuuri did, couldn’t give in until he was sure Yuuri was satisfied. And Yuuri was so close now. Every sound he made had taken on a desperate quality, a pleading tone that tore at Victor’s heart.

One particularly violent thrust had Yuuri arching his back, his knuckles shaking in Victor’s hands. His cock was leaking steadily onto Victor’s stomach. It looked almost painful in its arousal. But he hadn’t come. Not yet.

The next thrust had him trembling and taut, his breath stuttering out of him in gasps, his muscles clenching so tightly around Victor’s cock that he saw stars. Victor wanted so desperately to come, to fill Yuuri with his seed. He grit his teeth and held on.

One more. Victor saw tears rolling down Yuuri’s cheeks. They glistened in the sunlight and Victor was momentarily distracted. He wanted to catch them on his tongue, taste their saltiness against Yuuri’s lips.

A whimper erupted from Yuuri’s mouth and Victor’s eyes refocused. He saw the anguish on Yuuri’s face and he couldn’t stand it anymore, couldn’t let him keep suffering. He let go of Yuuri’s hands, slid one along Yuuri’s thigh until he gripped his waist firmly. The other he wrapped around Yuuri’s weeping cock. It jumped and throbbed in his hand, weeping for release. Yuuri’s hands wrapped around his, his fingers digging into their backs, his need translating into his painful grip.

Victor thrust upwards, lifting his hips as hard and as fast as he could, using his hand to push down on Yuuri’s hips, his other working at Yuuri’s cock. Yuuri wailed his name, his cry echoing around the bedchamber, the sweetest sound Victor had ever heard, before he exploded, his seed landing in hot white streaks on Victor’s chest, painting him with his spent passion.

He seemed to come endlessly, his thighs spasming against Victor’s hips, his inner muscles squeezing tighter and tighter until, with a helpless litany of Yuuri’s name falling from his lips, Victor came as well, both hands gripping Yuuri by the hips, pressing him down as hard as he could. He pushed his head back into the pillow, mouth open in a silent scream as his cock emptied itself inside Yuuri. It was a wonder Yuuri didn’t drown, Victor thought wildly, with how much he was filling him.

Yuuri trembled under his hands and grew taut again. Victor watched through dazed eyes in amazement as Yuuri came a second time, spurred on by the sensation of Victor’s seed shooting inside him. A deep feeling of contentment spread through Victor when Yuuri finally collapsed bonelessly on top of him, his insides still pulsing and trembling around his cock.

Victor felt a kiss on his collarbone and smiled, running his hands soothingly along Yuuri’s damp back.

“Feeling alright?” Victor murmured. Yuuri nodded against his throat and mumbled that he was fine, the raspiness of his voice widening the smile on Victor’s lips. Victor settled into the bedding, his hands lazily rubbing in a soothing circle on Yuuri’s back. He was so still, Victor was sure he had fallen asleep.

Until he felt Yuuri clench around his cock and the weight of Yuuri’s arousal settle on his stomach. A slow lick along his neck had the hairs on Victor’s arms standing on end. When he looked down in shock, Yuuri was blushing furiously and the sight of it sent blood rushing down his body so fast, he almost fainted. Yuuri glanced up at him through his lashes.

“Do you mind?” Yuuri asked, hesitant and shy. Victor huffed and, wrapping his arms around Yuuri, sat up so quickly that Yuuri squeaked in surprise. Victor ran his thumbs across Yuuri’s brow, smoothing the worried wrinkled between them, before cupping Yuuri’s face with both hands and kissing him. He poured all the feelings he had been saving into that kiss: endless gratitude for saving his men, fierce pride in Yuuri’s strength, and four long days and nights of longing for his mate.

“I have so many things I want to ask you about,” Victor started, breaking the kiss and wrapping Yuuri’s legs around his waist. He chuckled without humor. “I don’t even know where to start.” Yuuri ran his hands up Victor’s arms, squeezing his biceps, before encircling Victor’s neck.

“Start with this,” Yuuri whispered, slowly undulating his hips until Victor’s eyes fluttered shut and he groaned, his head tilting back. Yuuri nibbled at his throat and collarbones and Victor slid his hands down Yuuri’s back until he’d filled his hands with Yuuri’s bottom, gripping it tightly.

“We have all the time in the world afterwards,” Yuuri murmured. And Victor gave in, sinking into a kiss as Yuuri’s lips found his. His mind darkened to a pleasure-haze and there were no more thoughts to be had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!!
> 
> If I ever get back into drawing, this would be the chapter I attempt to illustrate first. I can see it so clearly in my mind but I can't quite get it into words XD


	6. Chapter 6

Yuuri gingerly lifted his leg out of the water and ran the piece of soap along it, carefully sudsing the extended limb. He leaned forward, but was immediately pulled back by Victor’s arms tightening on his chest and stomach. He felt a rumble along his back as Victor growled against the nape of his neck.

He never realized before just how possessive dragons were with their mates.

Even though they had spent the entire day and the following night in bed together, alternating between lovemaking, napping, and talking, Victor couldn’t seem to let him go. Privately, Yuuri admitted to himself that he also didn’t want to be away from Victor and he was grateful Victor wouldn’t allow it. Though his feelings were new and far from developed, their intensity already frightened him. He felt like a newborn calf: vulnerable and shaky. He didn’t think he could be alone with his thoughts right now, and he couldn’t help remembering what he and Victor had talked about.

 

* * *

 

_ When dawn arrived, they were huddled together on the bed, watching the soft pink rays of light filter through the heavy curtains pulled across the windows. Victor had his head on Yuuri’s chest, his arms wrapped around his waist, listening to the slow beat of their heart. Into the silence of the room, he asked about the time Yuuri’s powers had failed. _

_ Yuuri didn’t know how to begin, how to tell the story of his greatest failure. After a few false starts, Yuuri fell silent, avoiding Victor’s eyes. With an understanding smile, Victor instead told him about his childhood. How his parents—bondmates for over three centuries—had died when he was still too young to remember them. How Yakov had stepped in and raised him. How, at the ripe age of sixteen, the previous lord had fallen in battle, and it had been Victor upon whom the clan had heaped its hopes and its dreams. _

_ “But you were so young!” Yuuri exclaimed. Victor only shrugged. _

_ “I was not entirely unprepared,” Victor said, “Yakov started training me from a young age to lead the clan so I had a few years of lessons to call upon.” But his smile was sad and Yuuri ached for the boy he must have been, bright-eyed and eager to explore the world, a boy whose childhood had been forced to make way for adulthood in the space of a single day. _

_ With Yakov’s help, Victor had managed to make it through the early years. Not wanting to endanger his people so soon after the last war had ended, he had isolated them away from other dragon clans. All visitors were banned, all trade routes cut until only necessities, thoroughly examined and vetted, were allowed through the castle gates. They had focused their attentions inwards, their goal to sustain themselves without the need for outside help. _

_ “I think I made a mistake all those years ago,” Victor said sadly, “I wanted to protect us but instead, I kept us from forming alliances with other clans, alliances we sorely need, and now we are more vulnerable than ever.” Yuuri peered closer as Victor talked, realizing for the first time just how strained Victor looked. The small wrinkles around his eyes, the only signs of age on his otherwise youthful face, were more pronounced, more deeply set. Yuuri traced his fingers over them, smoothing them out slowly, until Victor trailed off and pressed his cheek against Yuuri’s hand. _

_ “You did your best,” Yuuri said as Victor took his hand and rubbed his knuckles against his lips, a purring sound emitting from his chest, “You guided the clan into prosperity and peace. Yakov tells me that all of the goods made here are highly sought after and I know your clan is grateful for all that you have done. Even if you make a mistake, it won’t change the way they feel about you.” He paused, feeling his face heat. _

_ “It wouldn’t change the way I feel about you,” he added softly. There was a long, surprised pause as Victor stared at him. A tremulous smile spread on his lips and he turned his head to kiss Yuuri’s palm. Blue eyes had never looked so warm. _

_ Yuuri realized then that he had spoken the truth for both himself and for Victor. Victor’s feelings towards him were unwavering, regardless of what Yuuri had done, and he would never judge him. Yuuri repeated it like a mantra, using it to anchor himself as he steeled his resolve. _

_ “I was twelve when my dog died,” he started, but stopped when Victor immediately sat up and pulled Yuuri into his lap, wrapping his arms and a blanket around Yuuri’s shoulders. Yuuri was surprised by how comfortable he felt, tucked in against Victor like an invalid. Their shared heartbeat was soothing against his cheek, the constant pulse keeping him steady. _

_ “When they brought him to me,” Yuuri continued, “he was almost gone.” Victor made a distressed noise low in his throat, the vibrations rumbling against Yuuri’s head. _

_ “Up until then, I did not have much practice with my powers. I helped heal some of the villagers with cuts and scratches, but never anything that severe.” Yuuri fell silent, remembering the panic, the wrenching fear that had invaded his chest, the helplessness. _

_ “No one in the village had ever met another Healer,” he said after a while. Victor’s hand rubbing on his back was immensely soothing. “We didn’t know the extent of what I could do or how to do it.” Yuuri poked his hands out from the blanket and held them in front of him, his fingers splayed. No one who looked at his hands would know how many he had saved. Or how many he had lost. _

_ He tucked his hands back inside his warm blanket cocoon and sighed, smiling when Victor planted a kiss on his head. _

_ “In the end, I couldn’t save him and he passed away not long after,” Yuuri finished quietly, wanting to get the difficult part over with. More than a decade had gone by, but his throat still tightened at the memory and he could always feel the old, familiar sense of inadequacy clawing at his back. _

_ “That’s a heavy burden for a child,” Victor murmured into his hair, his arms tightening around his shoulders. Yuuri shrugged. _

_ “No heavier than yours,” he said. Victor let out a breath. _

_ “How did you keep going?” _

_ Yuuri shook his head. “I’m not sure. For a long time, I couldn’t bring myself to heal anyone and I spent most of my days in bed. My family tried to coax me outside but it rarely worked. Then one day, I just woke up bored of being sad.” _

_ “And then you trained yourself to fully unlock your powers and studied all the medicine you could to help your village, only for me to swoop in and force you to bond with me,” Victor said wryly. From the corner of his eye, Yuuri could see a grim smile on Victor’s lips. He looked up, trying to see Victor’s face more clearly but he had turned away, letting his silver hair block Yuuri’s view of his expression. _

_ “And then I trained to fully unlock my powers and studied everything I could to help people,” Yuuri said, agreeing. Victor looked downcast, his smile fading. _

_ “And I am…immeasurably grateful that it led me here, a place I never could have imagined back at the village. And it led me to you,” Yuuri finished. Victor looked at him incredulously and Yuuri couldn’t help but smile. He looked so suspicious and unconvinced that Yuuri could possibly be happy in his situation. _

_ “You’re a bit of a masochist, aren’t you?” Victor asked finally. Yuuri chuckled and with one hand, flicked Victor on the forehead. He winced and looked chagrined, rubbing lightly at the spot with his finger. _

_ “Can you blame me?” Yuuri asked, “After you left me alone for days, I would have to be a masochist to not be furious with you.” _

_ Victor frowned, his eyes troubled and stormy. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I did not realize the trip back would take as long as it did. I know it has been a confusing time for you.” _

_ Yuuri nodded and shrugged, “I knew you had to go. I was simply unaware of the effect it would have on me.” He snuggled back into Victor’s chest and Victor laid his chin on his hair, holding him close. “Is this normal for a dragon bond?” _

_ “I wish I could say. I have never seen another bond like ours.” _

_ Yuuri contemplated his words. Without a precedent, how could he be sure of how he felt? How Victor felt? How could he know his tumultuous emotions were genuine? In the end, however, their bond was permanent so did it really matter? _

_ “I hope my clan was welcoming, at the very least,” Victor said, breaking into Yuuri’s thoughts. It was clear from his vaguely threatening tone that if Yuuri said otherwise, there would be many stern lectures to come. _

_ “They were very welcoming,” Yuuri said quickly, “I like your clanspeople.” He felt Victor smile into his hair. _

_ “They like you too. They were wildly impressed by your healing powers. I was impressed. By you, by your abilities, by your perseverance.” Victor paused, gently pushed Yuuri away from him, and frowned into his eyes. _

_ “I don’t want you tiring yourself to the point of collapse again,” He said, his voice stern. Meekly, Yuuri nodded. He hadn’t realized how tired using his powers to that extent would make him. But he hadn’t been able to stop. He’d been consumed with the need to prove to himself to Victor, to prove that he could overcome his fears. Even though he had fainted right after, he knew he had succeeded, and he couldn’t help but be a little bit proud. _

_ “You’re a bit of a god to them, did you know that?” Victor asked, tapping his finger to his lips as he mulled over the thought. Yuuri shook his head. _

_ “Oh, yes.” Victor nodded emphatically. “I used to be the one they looked up to. Now they have latched on to you and I have become nothing but an afterthought. I am an accessory disguised as a Lord and I exist solely for your pleasure and your satisfaction.” Yuuri laughed and reached up, wrapping his arms around Victor’s neck. _

_ “Then satisfy me,” he whispered against Victor’s lips. And Victor obeyed, like the good, decorative mate that he was. _

 

* * *

 

Yuuri blushed as he remembered what had happened after that. Their revelations about their childhoods had added a new layer of intensity to their lovemaking, and he was still recovering from it.

Victor, as if knowing exactly where Yuuri’s thoughts had wandered to, smiled against his shoulder and pulled him tighter against his chest until they were plastered together. Yuuri felt as if he’d become one of Victor’s limbs, permanently connected to his body.

“Victor!” Yuuri said, struggling to pull away, “I can’t reach my feet!”

“Your feet are beautiful,” Victor mumbled, nipping at the back of Yuuri’s ear, his arms not loosening at all. Yuuri stretched his hand as far as it would go before he fell back with a laugh against Victor’s chest.

“I thought you dragons had bred out your hoarding tendencies,” Yuuri said as he gave in and settled his head back on Victor’s shoulder. Victor kissed him on the cheek.

“We did make ourselves smaller,” Victor said, “but you can’t have a dragon without his treasure.” Victor pressed his lips to Yuuri’s neck and blew, producing a rude noise that made Yuuri laugh and squirm. He put his hand on Victor’s cheek, rubbing his thumb along his soft lips.

“And you are my treasure,” Victor said, his voice infinitely tender. Yuuri watched his eyes soften and glow, their blue color deepening and he couldn’t help but smile back, his heart full. He leaned his head towards Victor, his eyes slowly closing, lips parting.

A knock sounded on the door, loud and jarring.

“Your Lordships!” Sara called out, “You have visitors.”

“Who are they?” Victor shouted, his annoyance at being interrupted clear.

“They said they’re His Lordship’s family: his father, mother, and sister.”

Yuuri stood up so quickly that half the water in the tub splashed out onto the floor.

“I’ll be right down!” Yuuri shouted as he scrambled from the tub, almost falling in his haste. More water splashed onto the floor as Victor lunged forward to catch him but Yuuri slipped from his grasp. He grabbed a towel to dry himself as he ran awkwardly for the wardrobe, his legs still weak and wobbly, his feet leaving wet footprints on the floor. His heart was pounding in his chest, each beat sending a wave of dread coursing through him.

Yuuri knew his family was worried for his wellbeing, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were disappointed in his rash decision to sacrifice himself for the villagers. Were they angry he hadn’t sent for them? That he hadn’t managed to hold Victor off until after he had consulted with them?

Yuuri stood frozen before the wardrobe, scenarios playing out in his mind, each more painful than the last. He barely noticed when Victor plopped the towel dangling in his hand onto his head and gently dried his hair. His hands were soothing, the motion calming.

“I should apologize to them,” Yuuri said.

“For what?”

“I only left them a note when you came that day. And I haven’t sent them any word since.” Victor put his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders, squeezing them in comfort.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “From what you have told me about your family, they only want to make sure that you are not hurt.” Yuuri knew it was silly, but just hearing Victor reassure him made him calm down. He squeezed one of Victor’s hands for a silent moment, then shot him a small smile before they finished dressing and stepped out the door.

Sara led them to Victor’s study where she had taken Yuuri’s family, away from the curious gazes of the rest of the castle’s inhabitants. As one, they turned when the door opened and rushed towards Yuuri. His mother reached him first and immediately pulled him into a wordless hug. Though the top of her head barely passed his shoulders now, he instantly felt safe and warm, as he had when he was a small child taking comfort in his mother’s arms.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri said, his eyes misting. He patted her on the back when she shook her head, her face hidden from his view.

“We were worried about you, Yuuri,” his father said, the relief in his voice clear as he reached out and gripped his shoulder, squeezing it hard. Mari, his sister, crossed her arms and eyed Victor up and down, her expression wary.

“We thought something sinister had happened,” she said meaningfully, “Your note wasn’t very clear.” Victor cleared his throat.

“I am afraid that was my fault,” he said. Yuuri was surprised to hear him sound so humble. “I was in a rush to bring Yuuri back to the castle and I did not give him much time to pack.”

Yuuri’s mother lifted her head and peered around at Victor, wiping her eyes with one hand. Silently, she studied Victor’s face, reading the expressions in his eyes. Victor looked steadily back at her, unflinching in the face of her scrutiny. Her eyes darted to Yuuri as she stepped back and examined him from head to toe, even lifting his hands to examine them.

As if threatened by his mother’s inspection, the bondmarks on his arms flared to life, but they didn’t glow as brightly as Yuuri had expected. They were softer, pulsing lightly as if to say that they were there and they were happy to stay. Yuuri wondered, not for the first time, if they had a mind of their own. He certainly hadn’t meant to show them to his family, but they were the most effective at establishing his position. From the corner of his eye, he saw Victor’s bondmarks fade into existence as well, their muted red-brown color striking on his pale forearms.

His mother pushed his sleeves up his arm, running her fingers over the marks and marveling at their color. Her hand stopped and rested on a small smudge of a bruise on his arm, where Yuuri remembered Victor gripping him in a moment of passion. With a frown and then dawning realization, his mother glanced over him with widened eyes.

Yuuri was suddenly, embarrassingly, aware of what he must look like. His hair was still damp from the bath he and Victor had run from. His open-necked shirt clearly displayed his neck and collarbones, where he knew there were marks left from Victor’s enthusiastic attentions. Even his trousers were indicative of how deeply he was enmeshed in his new position. He hadn’t paid much attention when he had grabbed them from the wardrobe and it was only now that he realized they were in fact Victor’s, and they hung rather loosely on his smaller frame.

Yuuri felt his cheeks heating under his mother’s curious gaze and he couldn’t help but glance at Victor nervously. He watched as surprise dawned on Victor’s face at the realization of what Yuuri’s mother was seeing. With a blink, he grinned at Yuuri and waggled his eyebrows. Yuuri frowned ferociously back.

His mother, not missing the looks they gave each other, or a single detail of Yuuri’s present condition, beamed, her face growing round with the size of her smile.

“Well!” she said, patting Yuuri on the cheek lovingly, “It looks like we didn’t have anything to worry about after all.” She chuckled as Yuuri blushed harder, and held out a hand towards Victor who, slightly puzzled, took it in his.

“I hope Your Lordship will take good care of my son?” she asked, her tone making it clear that it was not a question. Victor nodded emphatically, sliding one arm around Yuuri’s waist.

“Of course. No question about that,” he said, still nodding, “You have my word. I’ll take good care of him. Always.” Yuuri could feel Victor’s nervousness dissolving into relief. He was practically babbling as he assured Yuuri’s mother of his commitment to his care.

Yuuri’s father, once he had been assured that Victor wasn’t a demon incarnate, had wandered off to peruse the shelves of books lining the walls of Victor’s study. But Mari hadn’t moved, her eyes now trained on Yuuri, a frown on her face. He detached himself from Victor’s arm and headed over to his sister. His mother took the opportunity to monopolize Victor’s attention and ask him about himself.

“Is this really what you want?” Mari asked once Yuuri was close enough, too low for even Victor’s superior dragon ears to hear. A wrinkle of concern appeared between her brows as she searched Yuuri’s face. “We will protect you from him if you want to come home, bond or no bond.”

The marks on his arms glowed in protest but Yuuri ignored them, pulling down his sleeves to mute their bright color. Mari glanced at them quizzically.

“This is what I want,” Yuuri said firmly. Mari raised an eyebrow and Yuuri rushed to explain.

“Everyone has been extremely kind to me. They are not at all like the rumors we have heard about dragonkind. And I really like—” He broke off and glanced over at Victor, still chatting with his mother. Victor caught his eye and gave him a private smile that made his cheeks flush. He felt flustered suddenly and lost his train of thought. “…I like everyone,” Yuuri finished rather lamely, knowing he didn’t sound the least bit convincing.

Mari had noticed his distraction, Yuuri could see it in her eyes. She glanced down at his open collar and made a tsk-ing sound with her teeth.

“I’ll support you in what you want to do,” she said, her voice not unkind. Yuuri saw his bondmarks sparkle happily and then fade, their presence no longer needed. “But if you ever want to come home, send word and we will come to fetch you.” Yuuri nodded gratefully and smiled, his heart light with relief that his family didn’t seem to bear any ill will towards him or Victor.

He gathered his parents and showed them his workroom, walking them through the door that adjoined Victor’s study. Victor followed with interest, not having had time to see it since he had returned. They looked appropriately impressed by his work tables, already set up into stations he needed to make his salves and powders and healing odds and ends.

Yuuri had had plenty of time in Victor’s absence to fill the drying racks he had set up by the balcony doors with all the plants and roots he could find around the castle’s lands. His shelves had been filled with the sacks and bottles of things he had managed to gather over the years: dried fibrous roots, oils infused with herbs, dried berries for healing teas, pressed leaves and flowers, and of course, boxes of his homemade candies.

His family happily took some as they walked around and examined his room, testing out the chairs and looking at the view. Yuuri handed a candy to Victor, realizing that it was probably his first time having any. And he was right.

Yuuri bit his lip and tried not to laugh when Victor made a face at the licorice candy, quickly masked by a pleasant smile when he realized a grimace was not a polite reaction to a gift.

“Yuri made the same face,” Yuuri said, chuckling, as he took pity on Victor and handed him a peppermint candy, “Try this one instead.” Victor crunched the licorice candy and swallowed it with a wince before he put the new piece in his mouth. He sighed in relief and smiled gratefully at Yuuri.

“This is much better,” Victor said.

“Yuri says it’s like breathing ice when he’s in dragon form.”

“He’s right.” Victor agreed, nodding. He leaned down and kissed Yuuri on the lips. Slowly, leisurely, he traced a line on Yuuri’s lip with his tongue, leaving a minty, sparkling feeling.

“There,” Victor said against Yuuri’s mouth, “Now we can both be ice dragons.” He smiled as Yuuri flushed and looked away only to find his family watching them with avid interest. His mouth opened and closed, no sound coming out of it as his face reddened more and more.

“Breakfast!” Yuuri blurted out with sudden inspiration, looking wildly around the room, “Have you had anything to eat since you arrived?” Mari shook her head, a smirk on her lips. Yuuri flung open the door to the hallway, startling Sara, who had been patiently waiting outside, and practically shoved his family out of the room into her care, babbling about the bread the castle’s cook made.

Sara led them away so they could wash and change their clothing, brightly offering her help with anything they could need. Yuuri heaved a sigh of relief and whirled around only to bump into Victor’s chest. Without a word, Victor lifted Yuuri’s chin with his fingers and kissed him, indulging in all the sensual torture Yuuri had come to expect from their kisses. He wrapped his arms around Victor’s neck and pressed himself against him bodily, giving in. Victor was cool and sweet, the candy giving his mouth a new, tingly sensation.

When they finally broke the kiss, they didn’t let go. Victor tucked Yuuri’s head against his shoulder and they stood for a long moment, wrapped in each other’s arms. Though they had indulged in each other for the past day and night, Yuuri could still feel desire simmering in his blood, always present in the back of his mind.

“I like your family,” Victor said and Yuuri smiled against his chest.

“They like you too.”

“Do they really?” Victor’s voice was excited, filled with hope, “I’m glad.” He was silent, then, “I have never had a family before.”

Yuuri pulled back to look him in the eyes. “You have one now,” he said sternly and Victor smiled in response.

 

* * *

 

They finally made their way downstairs after Yuuri had returned to their room to more thoroughly dry and comb his hair, change his pants, and tie up the collar of his tunic. Victor kept a steadying hand on Yuuri’s arm as they walked down the stairs to find the castle’s cook, Minako, sitting cozily at the table in the main hall, chatting animatedly with his mother. Makkachin lay across her feet, having already decided to adopt her new family members.

“What’s this?” Victor asked in surprise, “Minako, have the two of you met before?”

“Yes, my lord,” Minako said, pushing the platter of pastries on the table towards him and Yuuri as they sat down. “In fact, we grew up together in the same village before I discovered my dragon blood.”

Yuuri’s jaw dropped in shock. “But you never said a word to me!” he exclaimed. Minako chuckled.

“Forgive me, my lord. I thought you looked like Hiroko here,” Minako said, gesturing towards Yuuri mother, who was helping herself to a slice of toast, “but it had been so long that I wasn’t certain.”

“What happened after you discovered your dragon blood?” Victor asked.

Minako sighed. “Some of the village boys made fun of me one day and in my anger, I yelled at them and accidentally lit their clothes on fire.” Yuuri was shocked but beside him, Victor was nodding in sympathy, as if it were perfectly normal to set people on fire.

Catching the look on his face, Victor explained. “Dragon children spend quite a while learning to control their powers. It can be unstable when they first manifest, so lighting people on fire isn’t an uncommon occurrence in our world.” Yuuri raised his eyebrows, scooting his chair a bit further away from where Minako was sitting.

“The village leader wouldn’t let her stay after that,” Hiroko said, “Minako left the next day and I never saw her again.”

“I didn’t want to cause you any trouble,” Minako said apologetically, “You were already engaged to be married to Toshiya.” Minako waved a hand towards Yuuri’s father, who was tucking in to a pile of eggs on a plate. “I thought it best that I just disappear.”

“And that’s when you found me?” Victor asked. Minako nodded.

“And I have been here ever since, bossing around apprentice chefs who aren’t afraid of a little fire.” Minako finished with a grin. Yuuri thought “a little fire” was greatly underplaying it. He couldn’t help remembering the enormous column of flame that had erupted out the kitchen door his first morning at the castle. A glance at the grin on Victor’s face told him that he wasn’t the only one who thought so, and they shared a smile before turning their attentions back to the food in front of them.

Breakfast passed by quickly and with much laughter as Minako regaled them with stories of her and Hiroko’s childhoods. Even Toshiya chimed in now and then as Yuuri, Victor, and Mari listened in keen interest. When the last of the dishes were cleared and brought back to the kitchens for cleaning, they stood and Yuuri’s family began to bid them farewell.

“Won’t you stay for a few days?” Victor asked, capturing Hiroko’s hand as his eyes darted over their faces. Yuuri knew all too well the effect of Victor’s sincere, blue-eyed stare. He wasn’t at all surprised when his family wavered and then agreed to stay until the next day. Now that he wasn’t worried about their reactions to his bonding with Victor, Yuuri was greatly looking forward to showing them around his new home.

But first, he had some things to attend to. Minako excused herself from kitchen duty for the morning in order to give the Katsukis a proper tour of the castle, Makkachin happily panting along behind them, drawn by the lure of three sets of hands eager to pet her. Victor sent off to have some rooms prepared for them and for their bags to be brought up, then mentioned needing to consult with Yakov.

“Come with me?” he asked, but Yuuri shook his head.

“Yuri’s waiting for me,” he said.

“What for?”

“We have been practicing our sword skills together.” Victor’s eyes widened and his eyebrows shot to his hairline.

“With wooden swords, under the careful guidance of Mila,” Yuuri added quickly and Victor breathed a sigh of relief. He picked up Yuuri’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, sending a wave of warmth through him that made his fingers tingle.

“Should you be moving around so much, so soon?” he asked, concern tingeing his voice, “I don’t want you getting hurt because of last night.”

“I will be fine,” Yuuri said reassuringly, “I am only a little sore but I will heal right up soon.” Victor nodded, not entirely convinced but not wanting to argue.

“Come find me when you’re done?” Victor asked with a private, suggestive smile. Yuuri nodded and walked towards the castle entrance, a bit unsteady on his feet, the tips of his ears hot from imagining what might happen later when he met up with Victor again.

It was still early morning when Yuuri stepped outside, the sun barely starting to break up the clouds in the sky. The castle inhabitants were just starting to wake and go about their days, and in the distance, Yuuri could see the farms coming to life as well.

“You’re late!” Yuri’s loud, irritated voice called across the courtyard as he entered it. Yuuri hobbled over and caught the wooden blade Yuri tossed at him, exchanging morning greetings with him and Mila.

“My apologies,” he said, flexing his wrists and testing the weight of the wooden sword, “My family came to visit and we were getting them settled.”

“Whatever,” Yuri scoffed as he positioned himself in a fighting stance, “I want to work on that new move Mila showed us yesterday. I won’t go easy on you.” Yuuri smiled and widened his stance. The muscles in his thighs and lower back protested. It would be a bit more until he fully recovered from the previous night’s activities.

“I never expect you to,” he said in response, raising his blade to the starting position. They looked towards Mila expectantly and when she nodded, began the day’s lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!!
> 
> I'm hoping notifications go out properly for this chapter... ಠ_ಠ


	7. Chapter 7

“You’re late, Victor!” Yakov barked as soon as he opened the door. His usually disgruntled expression was even more pronounced as he frowned at Victor from across the room.

“Yuuri’s family came to visit us,” Victor said by way of apology, “I was making sure they knew I wasn’t going to chop him up and eat him.” Victor thought about other ways he could eat Yuuri and immediately waved them from his mind. He needed all his faculties about him this morning.

“Your mate did well with Georgi and his men,” Yakov harrumphed begrudgingly, “His powers are quite something, much more powerful than any I have heard of before. Georgi was practically dancing when I met with him yesterday.”

“So he has told you, then?” Victor was glad he wasn’t the one who would have to share the news. “About the enormous army the North Mountain King is building?”

Yakov nodded. “About the forge fires burning for days and nights on end, churning out armor and weapons. About the constant formation drills and the scouting parties. About how they were caught and almost died. Everything.” He scrubbed a hand over his face.

“They’re preparing for war,” Victor said.

Yakov nodded. “And so must we.”

Victor sighed and sat down in his chair, leaning back in it as he drummed his fingers on the arm rests. “We don’t have anything he could be looking for. We have only a moderate amount of resources, our people are only foundationally trained in battle. We don’t even have the allies to make us worthy targets for ransom.”

“Don’t be naive, Victor,” Yakov said, “This has nothing to do with resources and everything to do with power. The North Mountain King has always wanted to rule over all of dragonkind. Why do you think he gave himself the title of King?”

Victor shrugged. “I thought it was vanity,” he said with a wry smile. Yakov scoffed.

“We may not have anything to offer him, but taking the castle would serve as a clear message to the rest of the dragon world. We are, after all, in possession of a fine castle and being the closest clan to his, we are also the easiest target.” Victor knew Yakov spoke the truth but he didn’t want to believe that his people were in danger. He had spent all these years keeping them safe from the war and now it was right at their doorstep and he had nothing with which to hold it back.

“We still have some allies,” Yakov mused, “The clans we trade with are still friendly and we can call upon them for support.”

“We have an ally in Otabek Altin,” Victor said.

“Who?”

“The North Mountain King’s son and heir. I agreed to be his ally once he became King.” Yakov’s jaw dropped.

“You fool!” he thundered, slamming his fist down on Victor’s desk, the various bottles of ink on the surface jumped and tinkled from the force of his blow. Victor winced, his ears ringing, regretting his decision to take a clansman with a dragon’s roar as his advisor. Outside the window, a sudden stillness fell over the courtyard below, the sounds of his men at morning practice ceasing as Yakov’s voice echoed through the castle.

“How can you be sure he didn’t turn right around and tell the King about it? How do you know that he will not attack us if he becomes King?” The ringing in Victor’s ears intensified. He stuck his fingers in his ears but was still able to hear Yakov loud and clear, ranting about Victor’s rash stupidity as he paced around the room.

“You didn’t hear him, Yakov!” Victor finally shouted, raising his voice to be heard above the noise Yakov was making, “He wants peace between the clans and he is willing to take his place by force if need be.” Yakov scoffed, unimpressed.

“He would have to take it by force,” Yakov muttered as he sat down, “The King will never give up his position if he is still alive to defend it.” Victor could see that Yakov was still agitated. His fingers drummed impatiently on the tabletop while he glared at Victor, working himself into another lecture.

“I never knew the King’s family name was Altin,” Victor blurted out, hoping it would be a distraction, “I have only ever known the clan as the North Mountain clan.” Yakov snorted, knowing exactly what Victor was doing, but no longer interested in changing what had been done. Victor smiled hopefully at him.

“It’s not,” Yakov finally said, after a weary sigh, and Victor silently cheered, “The King’s true name has been lost to time, just like he wanted. His title is all that he wants to be known by.” Yakov frowned in thought. “If I remember correctly, Altin is the name of the boy’s mother. The King was not bonded to her and has never bonded with anyone, as far as I know. He would never allow for such an easy target against his power.”

“So young Altin is illegitimate,” Victor mused.

Yakov nodded. “But he is as legitimate an heir as anyone can get in his situation. He can fully transform, his father acknowledges him, and from what I have heard, none of the North Mountain soldiers have ever questioned his authority. If they did, they didn’t last long,” he finished darkly.

“He was sincere, Yakov,” Victor said reassuringly, “I could see it in his eyes. He wants this war to be over and he has the power and the opportunity to do it.” Yakov frowned at him, his age suddenly showing on his face, the wrinkles on his forehead deepening.

“I hope you’re right,” he grumbled, “I really hope you’re right.” Victor smiled wryly and changed the subject. He hoped he was right too. There was too much to lose if he wasn’t.

They discussed the new trading caravans that had petitioned to show their goods at the castle, debating between the clans that had sent them. The weekly list of crops and expenses was poured over and deliberated. And Yakov filled Victor in on Yuuri’s activities in the four days he had been away.

“It seems the clan is quite taken with him already,” Yakov said, “He is quiet and not very outgoing, but that seems to draw everyone in.” Victor nodded, all too familiar with Yuuri’s silent allure. “It doesn’t hurt that he has a nice face either.” Yakov finished wryly.

Victor frowned, a tingle of jealousy spreading on his shoulders. He wondered idly if making an example out of a few of Yuuri’s admirers would go over well with his clan. It certainly wouldn’t settle well with Yuuri, he decided in the end. And he would never purposefully upset his mate.

Yakov took out a small paper-wrapped object from his coat pocket and unwrapped it. Victor’s eyes widened when he realized it was one of Yuuri’s candies and he watched, fascinated, as Yakov casually ate it and stuck the wrapper back in his pocket. Yakov looked up then, catching his eye, and Victor was aghast to see him flush and look embarrassed.

“The candies he makes are quite good,” Yakov grumbled stiffly, turning his head to look out the window, “I went to his first lesson with the clan children and it was an interesting process to watch.” Victor grinned and tried not to laugh at how easily Yakov had been won over. He stood and walked to the window to watch his men at practice.

Below, the courtyard was alive with movement. Dozens of groups of soldiers had gathered, each practicing different formations and drills, the entire scene one of bright chaos. Off to the side, under the shade of the castle watchtowers, Victor spotted Yuuri’s lithe form, his eyes focusing on all the details of his mate. He moved with incredible grace as he practiced with Yuri, his every motion precise and controlled. Victor could detect a slight hitch in his step, a small hesitation borne from injury and he felt slightly guilty about all the attentions he had lavished on Yuuri the night before.

“We had more caravans than usual yesterday,” Yakov remarked casually. Victor made a noncommittal sound in his throat, his eyes still trained on Yuuri. “They were already asking after His Lordship’s healing salves and potions, and he traded quite a few with them.” Victor nodded absently. He was glad Yuuri was getting the opportunity to help those outside his clan.

“Georgi talked to some of the ones that came today, too,” Yakov continued, “He was very poetic about His Lordship’s healing powers.” Victor smiled out the window. Yuuri should be celebrated and revered.

“Vitya,” Yakov started, hesitating. Victor grunted, not wanting to interrupt the vision in his mind of Yuuri fully and happily settled in to his clan, doing what he did best. “Word of His Lordship’s skills is spreading fast. If the North Mountain King hears about them and decides that His Lordship will be useful to his agenda…” He trailed off, not finishing the thought. A wave of terror washed over Victor, the suddenness of it dizzying. His hand fisted on the window glass, images of Yuuri at the mercy of the King flashing through his mind.

“I won’t let that happen,” Victor snapped, a rumbling growl starting in his chest. The dragon in him reared its head and roared, ready to fight, to protect its mate. He fought down the intense desire to transform into a dragon right then and there, gather Yuuri from the courtyard, and hide them both away in a secret cave. “Yuuri is mine.”

Yuuri looked up then, his hand on his chest, alerted by the furious pounding of Victor’s heart. Beside him, Yuri looked puzzled, his mouth opened and closed but Victor couldn’t hear what he was saying. Yuuri shook his head and looked around until his eyes landed on the window Victor was standing at. He knew Yuuri couldn’t see him, but he still felt the force of Yuuri’s gaze.

Victor watched Yuuri squint adorably in his direction, his nose scrunching in a way that made him want to kiss it, a fierce wave of protectiveness rising in him. There was a quick discussion with Mila and Yuri before Yuuri laid his wooden sword on a table and headed back towards the castle, his steps light and sure. Victor never wanted anything to disturb that confidence. He would guard it with his life.

As if on cue, the other soldiers in the courtyard, seeing that Yuuri was now free, rushed over to him, dropping their weapons in their haste to reach him. Victor saw Yuuri start, faced suddenly with a crowd of dragonkin running towards him. But he didn’t turn or run away and Victor couldn’t help but feel proud. He knew his clan wouldn’t hurt him and he knew Yuuri was aware of it, but facing down even a crowd of friendly dragons took courage.

Yuuri seemed even more startled by the soldiers shoving each other out of the way to shake his hand or to grab him gleefully on the shoulders. Even from his stance by the window, Victor could see the joy on their faces, hope and laughter written in their smiles. After the demonstration of his skills, Victor knew Yuuri had become a savior in his men’s eyes, a symbol of a bright future. It didn’t matter that he was a single person, a human at that. He was their hero and that was all they needed to boost their spirits.

As a crowd, loud and boisterous, they started towards the castle to bring Yuuri to Victor’s study. Victor could just make out Georgi and his healed men closest to Yuuri, animatedly chatting with him all at once. Victor watched with amusement as Yuuri flushed, turning a darker pink with each passing second. Victor knew accepting thanks was difficult for Yuuri and he hoped he could help to change that. He hoped there would be a future in which he could.

He would die before he let the King take his mate.

It didn’t take long for the sounds of the crowd to echo down the hallway leading to Victor’s study. Yakov stood from his chair and he gathered some papers he had brought with him, preparing to leave.

“We will discuss more another day, Victor,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. Victor nodded grimly and they turned towards the door as it opened, soldiers spilling into the room, all loudly greeting Victor and Yakov as they entered.

“Please forgive the intrusion, my lord!” Georgi said, “We wanted to escort His Lordship on his way.” He gave an exaggerated bow with many flourishes of his am as he gestured Yuuri forward. With a chuckle, Yuuri thanked the soldiers for their company and they filed back out of the room, chattering about practice and the noon luncheon.

Yakov nodded to Yuuri as he followed at a sedate pace. “I’m glad to see you recovered, my lord.”

“Thank you, Mr. Feltsman. It’s good to be up.” Yuuri smiled as he left and closed the door quietly behind him. He let out a breath and turned to Victor, wide-eyed.

“What was all that shouting about earlier?” Yuuri asked without preamble, his lips turned down in a frown. Victor was momentarily overcome with the intense desire to nibble at them until they softened into a smile. But Yuuri was looking at him so earnestly, so gravely, that he couldn’t. Instead, he told him about his encounter with Otabek and what Yakov had said.

“But you trust this Altin boy?” Yuuri asked. And when Victor nodded, “Then I trust him, too.” Victor couldn’t help the warmth that spread through his chest. Yuuri’s unquestioning faith in him was more comforting than anything he had ever experienced before. He knew now how Yuuri had gathered the strength to heal four dragons from near-death that night.

Yuuri headed towards the adjoining door that led to his workspace. As he passed, his scent washed over Victor: soft leather, his own floral soap, the dampness of sweat, and underneath it all, the intoxicating scent of Yuuri himself. Victor closed his eyes and breathed deeply, filling his lungs with the arousing aroma of his mate after a bout of exertion. He could feel his trousers growing tight, the bulge of his erection growing and tenting the front.

By the time Victor opened his eyes again, somewhat steadier, his senses sharp with desire, Yuuri was contentedly moving around the room. He checked on bunches of plants he had drying on the balcony, uncovered gently simmering pots, and tested the consistency of a few mysterious mixtures sitting on another table, all the while jotting down notes on a small leatherbound book in his hand.

Victor leaned against the doorway and watched him work, admiring his grace and his surety. Though his arousal was growing more and more obvious, the almost nonexistent stiffness in Yuuri’s movements had him hesitating. Was it too soon? Was he letting his dragon-half make his decisions for him? Inside his mind, he felt it roar out its desire, loud and impatient, wanting only to be buried deep inside Yuuri’s body, sending them both over the edge.

Now that they had reached a tentative truce, or so it seemed to Victor, he didn’t want to do anything to break it. Yuuri didn’t look at him with hatred or anger or fear, but if he gave in to his desires so easily, he might reverse any progress he had made. They were, both of them, unsure and tiptoeing about the feelings they had developed. He couldn’t scare Yuuri off now.

“I can feel you staring a hole through my shirt,” Yuuri called from the balcony, not looking up as he penciled in another note in his book, “What has you so lost in thought?”

Victor pushed off the wall he was leaning on and strolled over to one of the shelves lining the walls. He picked up a small bottle of oil, holding it up and turning it in the light, admiring the greenish yellow color of it. He unstoppered the bottle and sniffed it. The aroma was grassy, fresh, with a hint of sweetness.

“I was simply eyeing this bottle of oil,” Victor said in reply, “What’s in it?”

Yuuri glanced at the bottle. “I was experimenting with infusing flowers in different oils,” he said, sounding far too casual. Victor narrowed his eyes.

“For what purpose?”

“C-cosmetic,” Yuuri said. Hastily, he looked back down at his book and turned away, the tips of his ears turning pink in the sun. Victor stared inelegantly.

“Yuuri!” he blurted out, amazed, “Are you making sex oils?”

The notebook slipped from Yuuri’s hands and landed with a thud on the floor as he gaped, horrified, back at Victor.

“Of course not!” he sputtered, “These oils are for beauty treatments and the like. That some people might use them for massages or as aids for sex just happens to be an additional purpose that—” He stopped abruptly as a grin slowly spread on Victor’s face. “Why are you smiling at me like that?”

Victor chuckled. “I was just about to ask Sara to order some more for me from the next caravan,” he said, “We used most of the bottle I had next to the bed.” Victor enjoyed how rapidly Yuuri’s face turned red.

“But now that I know you can make your own,” Victor said as he stalked towards Yuuri slowly, still holding the bottle of oil, “we don’t have to worry about using too much at once. Why don’t we test this one out?” Yuuri slowly backed away, blinking rapidly, until his hip bumped against a table scattered with books. Victor’s dragon-half roared to life at his retreat.

In a flash, Victor was towering over Yuuri, the bottle of oil on the table, both arms blocking Yuuri’s escape. He hesitated, not having meant to go this far. But the instant he had seen Yuuri back away from him, all reason had fled. His heart pounded with wild excitement, the dragon in him straining to be set loose, to capture its prey and devour him.

Yuuri blushed, his eyes wide as he stared up at Victor, still startled by how quickly he could move. Then his lips quirked into a shy smile, and his eyes lit with something Victor could only call desire. A heavy thump in his chest told him that Yuuri wasn’t intimidated by him, that he found his dragon sensibilities exciting.

If it was a dragon Yuuri wanted, then a dragon he would get.

Victor couldn’t stop the purr that sounded from his throat as he dipped his head to nibble at Yuuri’s lips. Yuuri gasped, the sound soft and sweet, spreading warmth through Victor’s chest, as he reached up both arms and wound them around Victor’s neck. They kissed passionately, both throwing themselves into it with fervent need.

Victor broke the kiss, his head spinning. Yuuri moaned as Victor’s lips left his and Victor almost came from the sound alone. He ran his thumb over Yuuri’s plump bottom lip, moist with his kiss, and Yuuri licked the tip of it, drawing it into his mouth and sucking gently. Victor hissed out a breath, his trousers unbearably tight.

“Turn around,” he whispered, need turning his voice dark and forceful. Yuuri turned, letting the edges of his clothing brush against the stiff tent in the front of Victor’s trousers. Victor’s hands shot out, gripping Yuuri by the hips and pulling them against himself, pressing his aching erection against the cleft of Yuuri’s bottom. They both gasped at the contact.

With shaking, frantic hands, they undid their trousers and let them drop to the floor right before Victor repeated the motion, rubbing his bare cock, already leaking, against the warm, plump cheeks of Yuuri’s bottom. He let the tip catch against the rim of Yuuri’s entrance, teasing it over and over until Yuuri cried out in frustration, his hands reaching back and gripping Victor’s. The marks on his arms pulsed erratically.

“Don’t tease me,” Yuuri panted, breathless, “Put it in. Please.” The words sent a thrill down Victor’s spine. He picked up the bottle of oil and poured a generous stream over the long length of his cock, then directly onto Yuuri’s entrance. Yuuri startled but held still as Victor put the bottle down and spread the oil with his hands. One he used on his cock, pumping it slowly, tormenting himself in preparation. The other he palmed over Yuuri’s bottom, cupping his cheeks, dipping his fingers into Yuuri’s entrance.

Yuuri whimpered, his hands fisting on the table’s surface as Victor entered him with two fingers, then three, moving them at a rapid pace as he oiled his insides. The sweet aroma of the oil filled Victor’s nostrils as his hands slipped over slick flesh. 

When the wet squelching of his fingers inside Yuuri was too much for him to handle, Victor grabbed Yuuri by his slim waist, positioned his cock at his entrance, and thrust himself inside. Even loosened as he was by their lovemaking the night before, and softened by Victor’s fingers and the oil, it was a tight fit. Yuuri arched off the table, his cry echoing around the room, half pain, half ecstasy. Victor pulled their hips together, until he was fully seated, Yuuri’s bottom fitted snugly against his hips.

Baring his teeth, Victor let out a sharp breath and pulled his cock almost all the way out, before slamming it back in with a fierce, fervent rhythm. Yuuri was so tight around him, hot and clenching, slick with oil, that he could barely breathe. His chest tightened, heart constricting, as he worked up a faster pace, until the table shook and clattered against the stone floor. Moans fell from Yuuri’s mouth, winding their way into Victor’s mind. His dragon-half groaned and thrashed, straining for freedom.

A hazy red fog was filling his vision as his control slipped from his iron grip, and all at once, his dragon took over. He didn’t know how to fight it anymore, or if he even wanted to. Furiously, he pounded into Yuuri, his hands so tight on Yuuri’s waist that he knew for certain he would leave bruises. A dark part of his mind was glad. The bruises would be a clear sign of mating, of ownership. And he wanted it to be clear to anyone who saw Yuuri.

He bent over, gripping the opposite edge of the table with his hands, and used his full weight to slam into Yuuri with even greater force. Underneath him, Yuuri’s soft moans had long since turned to guttural cries, desperate and breathless in tone. It was music to his dragon’s ears.

With a growl deep in his throat, he opened his mouth and sunk his teeth into the back of Yuuri’s neck, tasting the salty sheen of sweat there, biting down until Yuuri gasped in pain, his hips bucking against Victor’s. A jagged bolt of pleasure shot up through Victor’s belly before he let go of Yuuri’s neck and watched as the bite healed, leaving behind a soft imprint of his teeth.

Yuuri was shivering with every thrust now, and tears dripped from his eyes on to the table’s smooth surface. His mouth was open in a silent scream, his voice already gone. Victor reached around and wrapped his oil-covered hand around Yuuri’s cock. Yuuri shook with renewed sensation, his cock throbbing and jumping against Victor’s palm.

Without ceasing the movement of his hips, Victor pumped at Yuuri’s cock, reveling in the way Yuuri clenched around him. His ragged gasps spurred Victor on and he fisted him faster and faster, until with a moan that was ripped forcefully from his chest, Yuuri came, hot, strong spurts of his seed splashing against the stone floor under the table.

Victor felt Yuuri’s legs collapse and he lay limp and exhausted on the table. But Victor wasn’t done yet. He dipped his hands under Yuuri’s legs and lifted them by the knees until Yuuri was splayed on the table. And he kept going, pounding and thrusting, his hands the only anchors keeping Yuuri in place. Yuuri’s weak, helpless whimpers only served to spur Victor on. His bondmarks, normally a gentle brown, had gained a reddish tinge, stark against his pale skin.

Pressure was building in his legs, traveling up through his testicles, down through his abdomen until finally, he burst. With a roar that rattled his throat, he thrust as deeply as he could, slamming into Yuuri as he orgasmed. His entire body shook with the force of the ecstasy that ripped through him and he came endlessly, his cock pumping his seed into Yuuri in such quantity that it spilled out around him and onto the stone floor.

For long moments, they trembled together, still joined, as Victor’s cock pulsed and throbbed, emptying itself into Yuuri. He held himself rigidly braced against the table, gasping and shuddering, as the pleasure ebbed. The red haze in his mind lifted, his dragon satisfied and ready to lay dormant. Slowly, it dawned on Victor what he had done.

Horrified, he pushed himself up, his legs shaky as he stood and pulled out of Yuuri. More of his seed spilled from Yuuri’s entrance, running down his legs and pooling under them on the floor. With shaking hands, Victor carefully turned Yuuri over, eyes darting frantically over his face. Blearily, Yuuri opened his eyes with a soft groan, the dried tear tracks on his cheeks making Victor’s heart clench with sympathy.

“Yuuri,” Victor choked out, cupping Yuuri’s face in his trembling hands. He could feel his eyes burning, threatening tears. “God, Yuuri. I’m so sorry.” Yuuri’s eyes, dazed, unfocused, barely glanced at his until they closed again, the rejection cutting through Victor like a knife. Yuuri’s mouth twitched as he grunted in pain, a small wrinkle appearing between his brows. He had felt the clench in Victor’s heart and Victor grew even more ashamed. He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see the pain on Yuuri’s face anymore.

How could he have let this happen? He was weak and foolish, he berated himself savagely, one who couldn’t fight his own urges. The North Mountain King wasn’t the biggest threat to Yuuri’s safety, it was him, Yuuri’s own mate, who would hurt him the most. Just that morning, he had promised Hiroko he would treat Yuuri with the utmost care, yet scant hours later, he was ravaging him against a tabletop like a beast. Like a monster.

He felt Yuuri’s warm hand, limp and trembling, touch his face. When Victor opened his eyes and looked down, he had to blink the moisture from them until he could see Yuuri’s face clearly. He looked tired, the frown on his face even more pronounced. Was this when he would tell Victor goodbye?

“What’s wrong?” Yuuri croaked, his voice gone, the sound hardly above a whisper.

“What do you mean what’s wrong?” Victor choked out, “Look what I did to you!” He gestured violently with one hand at Yuuri’s bare lower body, limp, covered in fluids, still dripping with Victor’s seed. He couldn’t bring himself to look down, to see the wreckage he had caused.

Yuuri blinked, not truly comprehending. Victor watched the thoughts connect in his mind, the dawning realization arrive in his eyes, and braced himself for anything Yuuri asked of him. If he wanted to go home with his family, Victor would let him go, bond or no bond. If he wanted Victor to leave, he would seek shelter at another clan’s village. He would do anything to keep Yuuri safe from harm, even if it meant he would hurt himself.

Inexplicably, Yuuri smiled. He patted his hand weakly against Victor’s cheek and let it fall beside his head on the table.

“You would have stopped if I had asked you to,” Yuuri whispered, his smile confident, tender, slowing the painful bleeding of Victor’s heart.

“No, I wouldn’t have.” Victor said. In his head, he screamed at himself. What was he doing, poking holes in Yuuri’s rosy view of him? Was he trying to sabotage himself? “I wasn’t in control of my dragon-half, Yuuri. It wouldn’t have stopped.”

Yuuri slowly shook his head. “I am  _ his _ mate, too,” he said. He reached up and patted Victor’s chest. Victor’s heart thumped in reply and he could feel his dragon-half sitting up, intent on Yuuri’s words. “Neither of you would ever truly hurt me.”

Victor felt his dragon purr and settle down, pleased with Yuuri’s faith in it. But he wasn’t so easily reassured. How could he make Yuuri see that he wasn’t human? That he had the capacity to cause him true pain? That Yuuri should be afraid of him? That he was afraid of himself?

“It wants you, too,” Victor said savagely through gritted teeth, watching Yuuri’s face through narrowed eyes, “It wants to be inside you in full dragon form, to fill you with its seed until it splits you wide open and you’re drowning in it.”

He placed a hand on Yuuri’s flat stomach. “It wants to empty himself into you until you’re round and swollen with it.” He pressed, just enough to make Yuuri grunt. “And then it wants to do it over and over again. Until you can’t even think. Until you don’t even know who you are anymore.”

He could feel anger rising in his chest. Anger at Yuuri for not being scared of his innate violence, at his own traitorous words for ruining any attempts at peace. And anger at himself. Because even after what he’d done, even trying to scare Yuuri off, it still excited him. He wanted to mate with Yuuri in dragon form, to be truly desired and accepted for himself, every part of him. Even the part he himself had yet to accept.

Yuuri didn’t look frightened. His eyes were wide and his lips had parted in an O. He looked…curious, intrigued. Victor frowned at him. Why wasn’t this working, he wondered wildly. Was their bond playing with Yuuri’s mind, warping it into thinking this was normal? That Victor wasn’t the same man who had stolen him from his home and used his body more times than they could count?

“We’re going to need a lot of oil,” Yuuri croaked.

Victor couldn’t help his snort of laughter. He lowered his head and chuckled, his shoulders shaking with mirth as Yuuri laughed along with him, his voice hoarse. Victor laid his head against Yuuri’s shoulder as Yuuri wound his fingers into Victor’s hair, their convulsions shaking them both.

Victor laughed until tears welled in his eyes and he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t know what overcame him but in the next moment, he was gasping for air. He pressed his face into Yuuri’s shoulder, shaking as sobs wracked through him, fat tears rolling out of his eyes and dripping onto Yuuri’s chest, soaking through his shirt. Yuuri shushed him, murmuring comforting nonsense and rubbing his hands in soothing circles on his back.

Yuuri pressed his lips against the top of Victor’s head and he closed his eyes, listening to the beat of their heart in Yuuri’s chest. The tears wouldn’t stop now that they had started. Waves of emotion washed over him, so strong he trembled with them. Confusion, guilt, despair, and underneath it all, something stronger that he couldn’t name, but it left him so breathless and dizzy, that he couldn’t do more than cling desperately to Yuuri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!!
> 
> I hope this chapter wasn't too...intense.  
> Sometimes the things I write run away from me and I end up completely off-script...( ╯°□°)╯ ┻━━┻  
> But I wound up liking it more than I thought I would! So i kept it ┬─┬ノ( º _ ºノ)
> 
> Also, I emailed AO3 support about subscription emails and as it turns out, it's a known issue that Anon works don't generate emails o(>< )o I have played myself haha. Sorry everyone! For future reference, I update on Tuesdays at 5pm PST / 8pm EST (give or take 5 minutes)


	8. Chapter 8

Yuuri squinted against the morning light as he helped his mother tie satchels of food and wrapped bundles of gifts to her horse. A glance at Victor walking towards him from across the courtyard told him that his family’s rider escorts were ready to depart. In the hazy glow of the morning sun, Yuuri could still see traces of redness and swelling around Victor’s eyes. He was quieter than usual this morning and though the castle inhabitants did not remark on it, Yuuri couldn’t help but feel protective.

 

* * *

__

_ Yuuri stroked Victor’s hair gently, trying to be as soothing as possible, waiting patiently for his hiccups to subside and his eyes to dry. When he had finally gathered enough strength to stand, he had avoided looking Yuuri in the eyes, even as Yuuri had wiped his wet face with a handkerchief. Yuuri could tell that Victor was embarrassed, shy, unsure of how to act after his display of emotion. He held out a hand the help Yuuri off the table. _

_ Yuuri almost collapsed when he tried to stand, his legs so boneless and weak, that Victor propped him up in alarm before sitting him back on the table. Victor stripped off his shirt and used it to wipe Yuuri as best as he could before, with gentle hands, he helped him put his underthings and his trousers back on, and carried him to their bedroom. There, the tub was filled and Victor cleaned him before laying him softly on the bed. _

_ Yuuri held his arms open, wanting only to comfort Victor, to wipe away the devastated look on his face, but Victor turned away, muttering something about the mess in the sunroom, and left. Feeling abandoned, but not having the strength to chase after Victor, Yuuri laid back on the plush pillows and let himself nap and heal. _

_ When the bedroom door opened later, Yuuri had woken to find Victor peeking in at him, his eyes averting immediately when Yuuri turned his head to look at him. Victor’s embarrassment was palpable and Yuuri could almost reach out and touch it with his hand. While he was sympathetic, it was a clear sign that Victor didn’t feel comfortable enough with Yuuri to let himself be vulnerable. Yuuri’s chest ached with wanting. _

_ But he stayed patient. He didn’t move or make a sound as he watched Victor shuffle about the room. Victor turned away from Yuuri as he washed himself, so that all Yuuri saw a view of his shapely buttocks, the muscles in his back flexing as he soaped his body. Even as he toweled himself dry and slipped into a robe, he hid himself from Yuuri’s line of sight. _

_ Only when he was fully clothed did he approach Yuuri and lay down next to him on top of the covers. Tentatively, he reached out and took Yuuri’s hand, entwining their fingers and holding it against his chest. For a long time, neither of them spoke. The slow steady beat of their heart coupled with Victor’s body heat along his side brought Yuuri infinite comfort. He hoped this peaceful moment would last forever. _

_ Victor let out a soft sigh, his breath gently blowing against Yuuri’s ear. His eyes were dark and searching, their blue color hypnotizing. Yuuri couldn’t make himself look away. _

_ “You’re not like anyone I have ever met,” Victor said, his tone quiet and puzzled, not unhappy with the revelation, but not happy either. Yuuri didn’t know how to respond so he waited as Victor finished. “You undo me.” _

 

* * *

 

Yuuri surveyed his mother’s horse with a critical eye. Originally outfitted for speed, it was now decorated with an assortment of bundles and packages. Yuuri had packed some of the salves and medicines he knew the village would need most. Minako had raided her store of fancy preserves to send back with the Katsukis, as well as fresh breads and pastries, and enough food to feed an army for days. The small contingent had at most half a day’s journey ahead of them and Yuuri imagined they would feast quite happily.

The escorts Victor was sending with them to protect them on their journey home were similarly laden down with gifts for the villagers: fine fabrics, artisan goods, copperware, steel trinkets from the clan’s forge, anything he could think of to delight them. Yuuri knew his parents would make sure the villagers had nothing but positive thoughts about Victor, and he could only hope the gifts they were sending would help the process along.

His family approached, their packing done, leaving only their departure. Yuuri’s heart was heavy in his chest. Though his family was close by and Victor had said they could visit any time they wanted to, he knew it wasn’t the same. There had been a small part of him that had wanted to go home with them, to leave Victor and the confused feelings they had about each other behind. For a moment, he had wanted to go back to a life where he had never experienced all the tumultuous sensations he had been made aware of these last few days.

But he wasn’t a coward. He would see his new position through, at least until the war was over, perhaps beyond if Victor still wanted him. People’s lives depended on him. Victor himself depended on him.

He hugged his mother first, nodding as she gave him last-minute instructions to take care of himself. His father and sister were next, each squeezing him tight, as if they were trying to memorize how he felt in their arms. To his surprise, they hugged Victor too. His expression of delighted shock was endearing and Yuuri couldn’t help but smile.

His family was helped onto their horses and with a final wave and shouts of farewell, they rode off back to the village, followed closely by their dragon escorts. Yuuri watched them go as long as he could, until they were flickering specks in the distance, clouds of dust making them waver in and out of his vision. Victor wrapped an arm around his shoulders and dropped a kiss on his head, and Yuuri let out a breath he had not known he was holding. After Victor had held his hand the night before, he hadn’t laid a finger on him since. Yuuri finally admitted to himself how much he had missed Victor’s touch.

“What did my mother tell you?” Yuuri asked to distract himself from his revelation. He had seen her whispering in Victor’s ear as she hugged him.

“She asked me to take care of you,” Victor said, “She worries that you will overwork yourself.” Yuuri nodded, expecting that.

“Your sister said she would cut my balls off if I made you unhappy.”

Yuuri snorted out a laugh. Trust Mari to threaten a dragon lord without a second thought. He would have loved to have seen Victor’s face when Mari made her threat in her usual calm voice.

Still chuckling, they headed back into the castle.

 

* * *

 

Hours later, Yuuri found himself slammed onto his back, panting as dust swirled around him, clinging to his sweaty skin. A polished wooden sword tip pressed against his throat, sunlight bouncing off of it mockingly. Yuri grinned down at him, nudging the sword against Yuuri’s chin as he gloated.

Yuuri grimaced, feeling the impact of his tailbone hitting the rough stone of the courtyard travel along his spine. He felt his healing powers immediately set to work, reducing the bruise that was surely developing, but compounded with the soreness he was still feeling from the day before, he knew he would ache still for a while to come.

Yuri held out a hand and Yuuri took it, letting himself be pulled back on his feet with a grunt. His hair was sticking to his forehead and he brushed it impatiently out of his eyes, wincing as the movement jarred his back.

“My lord,” Mila said hesitantly, “perhaps you should rest a little.” Yuuri frowned. Before he had bonded with Victor, this sort of light exercise would not have even affected his breathing. But the past few days were catching up to him, so instead of continuing, he nodded and sat on a bench that had been placed beneath one of the trees in the courtyard. Mila poured mugs of water for them from the jug a housemaid had brought outside and Yuuri drank his gratefully.

“You’re getting worse and worse,” Yuri said bluntly as he drained his mug, holding it out to Mila again for a refill, “Do you even want to improve?”

Yuuri sighed, his shoulders hunching. “I have a lot on my mind,” he muttered, watching as his reflection rippled on the surface of the water in his mug. He was glad that the weight of his family’s reaction to his bonding had been lifted, but there was so much more to worry him now.

“Like what?”

“The war, mainly,” Yuuri said. It was a sobering reminder to himself that Victor had chosen him specifically for his healing powers, that he would be expected to heal not just one, but dozens upon dozens of wounded soldiers as they fought against a much larger, much stronger dragon clan. Their very lives, the happiness of their families, all weighed on him. Though he had been gathering supplies and making medicines as quickly as he could, it didn’t felt like enough.

With Victor home, too, he was constantly distracted. Their feelings for each other, though only a few days old, were jumbled and confusing, often breaking Yuuri’s focus. He knew now that he wasn’t angry at his situation or at Victor for putting him in it. But that didn’t mean he knew how he felt about the man himself. Or the things he had said the day before.

The memory of Victor’s harsh voice, trying his hardest to scare Yuuri, came to mind.

_ It wants to be inside you, to fill you with its seed. _

Yuuri didn’t know if his stomach was churning from fear or from anticipation. He had wondered for a while now why Victor insisted on referring to his dragon-half as a separate being. To Yuuri, they were one and the same and he, God help him, wanted to know both sides. He wanted to be a true mate to Victor, to be with him in all of his forms.

He knew Victor would do his best to avoid it, just as he knew it was only a matter of time before Victor gave in. He had seen the way Victor clung to him when they were together, the possessive look in his eyes. Yuuri had never pointed it out, but Victor’s attentions were more dragon-like than he would want to admit, and Yuuri was glad. It made him feel desirable, powerful.

It made him feel loved.

Yuuri startled at the thought, jostling his mug of water. A few drops spilled over the edge and rolled down the sides onto his hand, unheeded. Loved? Was that how he was feeling? He thought back to the things Victor had said, the way he had behaved over the short time they had known each other. Could it be as simple as that?

His heart thumped, confused, and he pressed a hand to his chest. Victor couldn’t possibly be in love with him, Yuuri told himself. Beyond his healing powers, he was nothing special, had nothing to recommend him. But memories flashed through his mind: the look in Victor’s eyes right after they had bonded, the patience and the tenderness with which Victor had made love to him, Victor calling him his treasure.

Yuuri barely noticed when an enormous shadow fell over him. But at the thump nearby in the courtyard, he looked up just in time to see sparkling silver-white hide shrink into the very man he had been thinking of. Victor strode towards the bench, concern evident on his face. He knelt in front of Yuuri and placed a hand on his forehead, his eyes searching his face.

“Are you alright?” Victor asked, and Yuuri realized he had been summoned by the lurching of their heart. Yuuri nodded quickly, not wanting to draw attention to his thoughts. They were too new, too raw, for him to mull over when other people were around. He needed to wait until Victor was asleep, until the world was asleep, to truly delve into them.

He jumped to his feet, ignoring the twinge in his muscles, and drained the rest of his water with a gulp. Victor slowly stood, still watching him with troubled eyes. Yuuri needed a distraction.

“Yuri!” he said hastily, not meeting Victor’s gaze, “Let’s go again. I have my energy back.” Yuri stood up with youthful eagerness and grabbed his wooden sword.

Yuuri threw himself into his practice, focusing as hard as he could on the precise angles with which he swung his sword, each measured step he took. He blocked as Yuri attacked, the impact on his sword arm jarring but expected. His grip tightened against the hilt as he parried, sweeping Yuri’s sword to the side.

Yuri grew stronger by the day, and increasingly skillful. Yuuri wasn’t sure he would be able to keep up much longer. His arm was already growing sore, the repeated impacts on his blade broke his momentum and it took even more strength to keep going.

Behind him, Victor addressed a question about their training to Mila and Yuuri was immediately distracted by the sound of his voice. Too late, he tried to bring his focus back to the fight. With a loud “Aha!” Yuri took advantage and struck, his heavy wooden blade whipping mercilessly into Yuuri’s side. His dragon strength, unfettered by enthusiasm, propelled the sword with such force that Yuuri was knocked to the ground, hitting it with a jarring impact to his shoulder.

He landed with a grunt and a hiss of pain. In an instant, Victor was at his side, his hands fluttering over him in panic. His wings had burst from his back and shielded them protectively, the sunlight bouncing off their shiny surface almost blinding Yuuri. Yuuri pressed a hand to his side and concentrated, using his powers for once to heal himself quickly, if only to wipe the worried look off of Victor’s face. He couldn’t stand to see Victor so upset over him.

Yuuri smiled at Victor and lifted his shirt, relieved to see that even the redness from the impact had disappeared.

“I’m fine, see?” he said. The wrinkle between Victor’s brows smoothed in relief but his eyes took on a fiery glint. Victor folded his wings against his back, then pushed himself off the floor and stalked towards Yuri. Yuuri scrambled to push himself up.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Victor thundered, his voice laced with his dragon’s roar and bouncing around the courtyard. “You could have killed him!” Victor didn’t stop until he was an arm’s length away from Yuri, forcing him to look up in order to see Victor’s face. From the corner of his eye, Yuuri saw the soldiers at practice on the other side of the courtyard pause and turn to watch.

Yuri’s face was a perfect scowl, “He healed, didn’t he?”

“That’s not the point, Yuri. He’s human and you are a full-blooded dragon. There is no way he would not get hurt if you hit him.”

“Well I wouldn’t have to hit him if someone practiced with me the way he promised!” Yuri shot back.

Victor gave an exasperated sigh. “You know we are in the middle of a war. How many times must I tell you that I am busy making preparations?”

“And how many times have I said I wanted to help?” Yuri yelled, “All you do is brush me off!”

“You’re a child,” Victor said, “No one in their right mind would let you anywhere near this war.”

“But you have no problem letting your fully human mate help you? He will be the first one to die and it will be your fault!” The silence after Yuri’s words was so thick, Yuuri wanted to hack at it with his wooden sword. He grabbed a handful of Victor’s sleeve, nervous about what he might do. He could feel Victor vibrating through the fabric, waves of shock, of anger rolling off of him.

Without a word, Victor grabbed the wooden sword from Yuri’s hand and with a breath, set it aflame. Silently, they watched as it burned, wisps of black ash dropping onto Victor’s hand, dotting the pale skin there, before drifting to the ground. Victor let the remains of the sword fall when there was nothing but a hilt left. Yuuri felt his face drain of color.

“Don’t let me catch you touching another weapon until I give you permission,” Victor said quietly, calmly. Yuri turned towards Yuuri, his eyes filled with pleading, just as Victor held his hand behind him, his intentions clear.

Yuuri hesitated, glancing between the two, before he placed his own wooden sword into Victor’s hand. The betrayal on Yuri’s face was instant. Yuuri felt his own heart clench. He had built a rapport with Yuri these last few days, after hours and hours of training, but he had no choice except to destroy it. He could not undermine Victor in his decisions as clan leader, not now when war would break out any day, and he needed all of his men behind him.

Yuri turned without another word and strode from the courtyard. Victor lit the other wooden sword on fire and waited until it burnt away to a small stump.

“Mila,” Victor called. Mila stood to attention from where she had watched everything happen. “Your lessons with Lord Yuri are at an end, effective immediately.”

Mila saluted and turned, hastily gathering her things before she headed back to the castle. The soldiers who had paused to watch them slowly resumed their practice, until it was only Yuuri and Victor left standing in a lonely, shaded corner.

Yuuri let go of Victor shirt and smoothed it as best he could with his hands. “Surely, you did not have to stop all lessons?” he murmured. Victor shook his head.

“Yuri is immensely talented,” he said, “If I had let him continue practicing, especially with you, he would have surpassed most of the clan in skill.” Yuuri tilted his head, not understanding.

“Once he was good enough, there would be no reason for me to bar him from the war,” Victor explained, “And he is much too young to see that kind of horror.”

“The way you did when you became Lord.”

Victor nodded and Yuuri couldn’t help but hug him, pouring comfort into his arms.

“He will understand one day,” Yuuri said. Victor patted his hand but didn’t reply.

 

* * *

 

It was quiet from then on. Yuuri went about his daily morning routine of plant harvesting and medicine making, then practiced swordsmanship with Mila using the short sword he had brought from his village. Afternoons were spent with Victor and other clansmen to learn about his lordly duties and the people he and Victor led. When the trading caravans came, Yuuri would trade his medicines and candies for things the castle was in need of. Sometimes, they brought sick or injured people and dragons to him for healing. Word was spreading about his abilities and other clans were beginning to take notice.

When Yuuri wasn’t busy, he would wonder now and then if Yuri was alright. He didn’t seem to have many friends, even among the other clan children. His position set him apart from them though none ever took the steps to bridge the divide. Yuuri rarely saw him around the castle grounds anymore. He would sometimes appear for a meal in the hall, accompanied by his grandfather, but he was always silent and surly, even when Nikolai would converse with the table. Yuuri had a feeling Nikolai agreed with Victor’s decision and though he was looking forward to his grandson becoming lord one day, he didn’t want him anywhere near the war.

One early morning, almost a month after Yuuri’s parents had left for home, he was awoken from sleep by knocking on the bedroom door. He sat up, yawning and rubbing his eyes, Victor’s hand falling down his body as he did so. Victor grumbled and hugged Yuuri around the waist, trying to pull him back down on the bed.

“Your Lordships!” a voice was yelling from the other side of the door, his voice muffled by the heavy wood, “Dragon incoming!”

Jolted into action, the two of them jumped out of bed and dashed to the wardrobe to dress in battle gear. Yuuri grabbed their sword belts as Victor flung open the door and together, they were running up the stairs that led to the castle watchtowers.

Mickey, Sara’s brother with the keen eyesight, was standing at the edge of the tallest tower, his eyes trained northwards, towards the mountains in the distance.

Victor clapped a hand on his shoulder. “What do you see?” he asked.

“A lone dragon, my lord,” Mickey said, his face grim, “His coloring suggests he is from the North Mountain clan. He’s approaching head-on at a fast pace; should be here in less than twenty minutes.” Victor nodded, his expression stony, lips pressed into a thin, hard line.

Yuuri’s thoughts were whirling. Was this the start of the war? Were they prepared? Did he have enough medicines for if things took a turn for the worse?

“Is he armed?” Victor asked. Mickey shook his head and Yuuri breathed a small sigh, only mildly relieved. A full dragon, after all, had no need of weapons. Perhaps he was coming to discuss terms with Victor.

Mickey squinted. “My lord, it seems there is something on his back.” Yuuri squinted in the distance, trying to see but the most he could make out was a dark blur against the early morning sky. Victor squinted too.

“It…it looks like a woman!” Mickey said. Yuuri raised his eyebrows and exchanged a look with Victor. Was that a normal occurrence for hostile dragons?

“My lord, it seems the woman is holding a child.”

“What?” Victor shot to edge and narrowed his eyes, leaning forward to see.

“Yuuri,” he said finally, “I don’t think they’re here for the clan.”

 

* * *

 

By the time the dragon touched down in the courtyard outside, Yuuri had readied the infirmary downstairs beside the kitchen, even as Victor had dogged his every step and grumbled about helping the enemy. They were outside the castle door, watching as the enormous black dragon, his hide dotted with brown spots, bent low enough for the woman on his back to slide off safely to the ground. Then he transformed back into a man, tall and stately, with midnight hair cut close to his head and dark smudges under his eyes.

Victor’s soldiers were ready, their dozen weapons trained on the visitors. The woman cradled the child she carried closer to her chest, her face drawn and fearful, while the man held up both hands, palms outward, to show his unarmed state.

“I am Cao Bin,” he said, his voice echoing around the empty courtyard as he looked directly at Yuuri. Beside him, Victor made a noise in his throat and took a step forward, half blocking Yuuri from sight. “We have fled the North Mountain clan and come to your castle because we need your help.”

“My daughter.” He gestured towards the child the woman carried. “She is injured and we are afraid she does not have much time left.” The woman beside him nodded tearfully.

“Please,” she said, offering her unconscious child towards Yuuri, her voice tremulous, “can you help her?” The girl was wrapped tightly in a brown woolen blanket, her breathing labored and slow. Yuuri could see the strained rise and fall of her small chest. He moved to step forward but Victor held out an arm, blocking his path. Instead, he nodded to Mila, who was leading the guards, and she stepped forward, taking the child from the woman and bringing her to Yuuri.

Yuuri accepted the bundle and turned to head back into the castle, followed closely by two of the guards who had broken off from the group at Victor’s word. He could not discount the possibility of a trap.

The girl was surprisingly light for her size, but given the sickly color of her face and her weak breaths, Yuuri estimated that it had been a few days since she had awoken or eaten. He hurried to the infirmary where he laid the girl on a cot and spread open the blanket. Minako had sent in pots of boiled water and the castle staff had readied stacks of towels and dressings as well as stores of the medicines he had made. In the month that he had been at the castle, they had learned his routine and adapted to it quickly.

The girl was thin, so thin that Yuuri could count her ribs under the thin tunic she wore. Her wrists were rubbed raw and her skin bore welts and scars from past wounds. Yuuri furrowed his brows in confusion. A girl this young bearing these kinds of wounds. What had she gone through?

He stripped her of her clothes and with gentle hands, used a washcloth and hot water to wipe away the grime of travel from around her wounds. He didn’t want any dirt around that might cause an infection later.

Cao and his mate walked into the room, flanked by guards, Victor at their heels. They had been deemed harmless enough to let into the castle, Yuuri guessed, but Victor wouldn’t relax too soon. He moved to Yuuri’s side, grimacing as his eyes fell on the girl, cataloging her wounds.

“What happened?” he asked, aiming his question at Cao but it was his mate who spoke.

“Cao is a blacksmith for the King,” she said, her eyes not leaving her daughter’s body, “He is the best in the clan but the King deemed him too slow at producing weapons. So he took our daughter and chained her up in his dungeon and when Cao slowed down or rested, he would have her punished.” Yuuri gaped in horror, at the matter-of-fact expressions on the Bins faces, at the lack of surprise on Victor’s. He never knew this kind of cruelty existed, that Victor would consider it routine.

Yuuri hurried with his preparations, turning the girl gently onto her stomach to clean the welts and marks on her back. She had suffered enough and he didn’t want to prolong it any further. With lips pressed tightly together, he wiped and cleaned as quickly as he could.

“We started planning our escape the minute the King took her,” Cao said, the anger in his voice clear and lethal, “We managed to scrape together enough funds and Shu,”—he nodded to his mate—“bribed a few guards to let her into the prison. But if it hadn’t been for Otabek, she would not have made it out again with Hua.”

“Otabek?” Victor turned his head, his interest caught, “Otabek Altin?”

Cao nodded. “He personally escorted Shu out of the prison and told us to come here. I overheard an advisor telling the King of His Lordship’s powers but we did not know where to find your castle or if we would find it in time. Otabek was the one who gave us directions.”

Before they could continue, Yuuri put down his soiled washcloth and turned Hua onto her back, ready to heal her. Without a sound, Victor placed his hand at the small of Yuuri’s back. He did not need the support, given how small Hua was, but Yuuri was glad all the same to be reminded of Victor’s constant presence.

Yuuri placed his palms lightly on Hua’s chest, stacked right above her heart. The room fell silent, the Bins’ tension palpable in the air. Slowly, Yuuri’s healing wind rose, fluttering his and Victor’s hems, curling around their hair. He felt it travel through him, a comforting heat that spread from the soles of his feet up his body and down his hands. Under them, Hua’s chest glowed pink and Yuuri could feel, in his mind, each of her wounds stitching together.

In only a few short minutes, Yuuri was done. Hua’s skin was flawless again, smooth and healed, except for the handprints on her chest that would disappear soon. Shu let out a glad cry when Yuuri had wrapped her in her blanket again and carried her over. Together, the Bins hugged their daughter as they thanked Yuuri profusely. In the midst of the noise and the jostling, Hua awoke and opened her eyes blearily.

Though she was still thin and weak, she smiled at her parents before closing her eyes again. Yuuri directed a kitchen maid to prepare only soft foods for Hua, easily digestible but nutritious, and she nodded and hurried off to relay his instructions to Minako.

“You have a miraculous power, my lord. How can we ever repay you?” Cao asked, the smile on his face lightening the dark circles that had been under his eyes, “We didn’t bring anything but the clothes on our backs when we fled.”

Yuuri shook his head. “Please, don’t feel as if you owe us a debt,” he said, “I am glad to help.”

Shu shook her head vehemently, “Surely there is something we can do? I have some skills as a seamstress. Perhaps I can help the castle staff.” Cao nodded.

“Yes, and I am glad to aid Your Lordships’ blacksmiths. We heard the King was planning to come here and I would be glad to shore up your soldiers’ armor and weapons.” From the corner of his eye, Yuuri saw Victor’s gaze narrow.

“The King spoke to you of his plans?” he asked.

Cao nodded. “The King often oversaw my work at the forge. I have overheard a few things he has planned.”

A kitchen maid returned then with a hot bowl of gruel and Shu immediately sat down on a chair, still holding Hua in her lap, to coax her into eating. Yuuri watched to make sure she could manage to keep it down in her weakened state while Victor continued a quiet conversation with Cao.

By the time Hua had finished half the bowl and Yuuri declared it enough for now, Victor had woken Yakov and with Cao, they retired to his study to dissect Cao’s knowledge and to discuss his new position at the castle. Victor glanced at Yuuri before he left and Yuuri nodded. He would join Victor once they were finished in the infirmary.

Yuuri handed Shu a few packets of medicines to aid in Hua’s sleep and appetite. Then he gave the sleepy Hua a peppermint candy, which she ate with a smile of delight, and directed a castle maid to prepare a room for them to rest in before a permanent place could be found. With more profuse thanks that made Yuuri’s cheeks heat, Shu followed the maid, still carrying a delighted Hua who was chattering softly about candy.

Yuuri stayed to carefully store away his medicines and went to the kitchen to thank Minako before he, too, headed up the main stairs to Victor’s study. Cao’s arrival, though unexpected, had been a stroke of good luck and Yuuri was eager to hear news of the King’s plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> One possible translation for Cao Bin's first name is "grass" so I just went with it and named his wife Shu (tree) and daughter Hua (flower) (＾▽＾) I'm so imaginative haha


	9. Chapter 9

“You are certain the King will come for him?” Victor asked, bracing his hands against his desk. Cao nodded, his eyes sympathetic, and Victor grimaced, looking down. He was glad Yuuri was still down in the infirmary, caring for his young patient, and not with him to hear that the most dangerous dragon in the land wanted him for his powers.

“His Lordship’s ability is unlike anything we have ever heard of, and the King will have great use for him. I am afraid that my departure will only hasten his arrival.”

Yakov stroked his chin, clearly troubled. “We will never be able to match the size of his army in time,” he shot Victor a speculative look. Victor shook his head, his eyes narrowing.

“I’m not handing my bondmate over to the King,” he snarled.

Yakov snorted. “That is not what I was about to suggest, Victor.” Victor relaxed, blinking with relief. “But we cannot do this alone. I know you want to keep the clan to itself, but without outside help, we will not be able to keep His Lordship safe.”

Victor bristled. He knew Yakov was speaking the truth, but the implication that he wasn’t good enough—wasn’t strong enough—to keep his own mate safe, stung. He pressed his lips together, thinking hard, ideas flitting through his mind. A hidden room beneath the castle, a decoy for the King, all these thoughts were considered and subsequently rejected.

In the end, Victor sighed, his shoulders drooping, forced to admit it even to himself. He could not do it alone. He didn’t have the army he needed to ensure both Yuuri and his clan’s safety. Not without help. From a desk drawer, Victor pulled out a sheaf of pressed papers, emblazoned with his clan’s coat of arms, and spread them reluctantly on the surface of his desk.

“I will write to the clans we know best,” Victor said, the words acrid in his mouth, “and request reinforcements and aid.”

“Perhaps we should ask them to shelter His Lordship as well,” Yakov said, his tone much too reasonable for Victor’s liking. His dragon-half immediately balked at the idea, thrashing violently inside Victor’s mind. His hand tightened on the paper he was holding, crushing it in his fist. Yakov glanced over and then looked away again, studying the opposite wall.

“Do you want him with you, Vitya?” he asked gravely, “Or do you want him alive and out of the King’s hands?” Victor deliberately let go of the paper and smoothed it out, trying his best to quell his rejection of the idea. Though his chest ached at the thought of being apart, it was the best option and they all knew it. Victor frowned and nodded curtly. He dipped a pen in ink and started to write on a fresh sheet of paper.

Yakov turned to Cao and questioned him about weaknesses in the King’s army, anything they might be able to use to defend themselves as Victor drafted his letter. He listened with half an ear as Cao detailed the King’s immense forces and their advanced weaponry, his heart growing heavier with every word. Even if he sent Yuuri away, Victor wasn’t sure he would survive to fetch him back, not against the army Cao was describing.

The door to his study opened quietly and he looked up to see Yuuri walk in followed by three of the kitchen staff, each carrying a tray laden with food, more than would be enough to feed the four of them. Victor hastily pulled a blank sheet of paper over the letter he had been writing, hiding it from Yuuri’s view.

“Minako would not let me come up without bringing breakfast,” Yuuri said apologetically, “She said we would need it if we were going to talk about the war all day.” Victor glanced at Yakov and then shook his head, a smile plastered on his lips.

“We have a plan in place already,” he said. Yuuri looked relieved and Victor was glad he had missed the earlier conversation. It would be difficult enough to convince him to seek shelter with another clan. He did not need to have Yuuri’s departure tinged with fear for Victor and the clan’s safety as well.

They ate quickly, discussing with Cao how he could contribute to the blacksmithing effort at the castle. When the breakfast were cleared, Cao stood and with a quick bow to the room, left with a maid to reunite with his family. Victor stood as well.

“Yuuri, we should get going,” he said, pushing his letters to the side, “If we wait much longer, it will be too hot to gather your plants.” Yuuri nodded and went to his workroom to grab his satchel and baskets.

“A few more hours won’t make a difference,” Victor said quietly in response to Yakov’s glare burning into his back. Yakov huffed and grumbled, but did not protest further.

 

* * *

When they reached the edge of the courtyard on foot, Victor transformed into a dragon, something he had taken to doing since he had started accompanying Yuuri on his gathering trips. The first time had been at Yuuri’s urging. Victor had had small marks on his hand from holding the wooden practice swords as they burned and Yuuri had wanted to know if he could heal a dragon in its natural form. So, feeling a bit silly, Victor had transformed in the small clearing where Yuuri had spread his herb blanket, and held out his claw.

Yuuri’s hands had looked comically small holding his claw but Yuuri had not seemed the least bit worried. With a quick call to his healing wind and a few seconds of concentration, Victor’s skin had healed, the silvery white hide once again smooth and unblemished. The smile Yuuri had given him, at once triumphant and delighted, had made his head whirl. In gladness, he had lowered his nose and snuffed a breath into Yuuri’s hair, making him laugh in response.

Even though he had not been entirely comfortable interacting with Yuuri as a dragon, Yuuri hadn’t seemed at all fazed by his other form. Though puzzled, Victor had been glad and decided to stay like that for the rest of their time in the clearing. He had learned many new and exciting discoveries as he had lounged around in dragon form.

For instance, he had discovered that Yuuri liked the feel of his hide. He would often pass by just to brush a hand over his snout or his forearms as he gathered his plants. Victor had enjoyed those caresses more than was reasonable, and often found himself purring, his eyes half closed, with each brush of Yuuri’s hands.

Yuuri was masterful at reading his responses, be they grunts or huffs or growls. Victor had been happy to sit back and listen as Yuuri talked to him, letting his soothing voice wrap around him. Yuuri wasn’t talkative to begin with, but he seemed comfortable enough to do so in front of Victor, and he had felt honored to listen.

Victor had also discovered that though his desire for Yuuri was ever present in dragon form, extended exposure turned it softer, less violent, less all-consuming of his thoughts. He had wondered if he and his dragon side were finally beginning to understand each other better, to realize that they could, in fact, coexist peacefully. That they were, after all, one and the same. He felt more comfortable now as a dragon, not as alienated as he had felt before from the rest of his clan.

He knelt low to the ground and, as they had practiced, Yuuri placed a foot onto Victor’s claw and used it to step his way onto his back, settling himself in front of the wing joints and leaning forward to hold on to Victor’s neck. Victor knew he wasn’t as large as the North Mountain dragons, but he was still big enough to carry a human comfortably.

He stretched out his wings and, with a flap, was airborne, heading towards a clearing, Yuuri’s calm heartbeat against the back of his neck. He wanted to remember this feeling so he could recall it in the lonely days to come. He knew he couldn’t hide the plan from Yuuri, but he wanted at least a few minutes of shared contentment. Part of him hoped that the clans he would write to would all reject his request for shelter. But he knew that with Yuuri’s powers and their combined interest in defeating the North Mountain King, it would be near impossible to keep Yuuri with him.

“What is the plan you decided on?” Yuuri asked as he laid out his herb gathering blanket after they had landed. Victor huffed a breath. He had been hoping to avoid having to speak but a direct question would be rude to leave unanswered. He transformed back into his human form and immediately grabbed the other end of the blanket, helping Yuuri lay it out flat. He kept his attention on smoothing out the wrinkles near his corner so that he wouldn’t have to look at Yuuri.

“We have determined that the King will be paying us a visit very shortly,” Victor said, keeping his voice neutral.

“To demand Cao return to him?”

“Among other things, yes.”

“But we will not let him go back, will we?” Yuuri sounded alarmed. “They only just rescued their daughter! She will not last if they have to return.”

“No,” Victor said, “I won’t let them, or anyone, fall into the King’s hands,” he looked up in time to see Yuuri smile at him. It never failed to dazzle him, that gentle curve of Yuuri’s lips, the way his eyes softened and glowed.

“Good,” Yuuri said, “I know you will keep everyone safe.” Victor smiled back, feeling rather sick inside. How would Yuuri react when he realized that Victor could not, in fact, keep him safe? But Yuuri continued with his preparations, his quiet demeanor brimming with confidence in Victor’s abilities and he could not bring himself to smash that faith so soon.

“We could use another skilled blacksmith, anyway,” Yuuri said, “Demand has been growing for Masumi’s iron cookware. Chris tells me he is quite overwhelmed with orders and we always run out when the caravans come to visit.” Victor nodded lamely and picked up a basket, following Yuuri out to the field.

For a blissful, peaceful few hours, they talked quietly and picked plants, with Yuuri directing Victor where to go and what to look for. Greedily, Victor watched Yuuri every chance he had, memorizing every minute expression that appeared on his face, every curve dappled by the sunlight filtering through tree branches. He wanted to preserve it all in his mind for when he would be alone, memories to cling to as he lay in their bed.

Just as they were stacking the layers of cut plants spread on white cloths into their baskets, bells rang across the field from the direction of the castle. Victor jerked his head up in alarm and without a word, without even a thought, transformed into a dragon and with both claws, grabbed Yuuri around his waist. His wings rushed out and they shot into the air, heading back to the castle as quickly as they could, baskets forgotten.

Those bells had only one meaning: they were under attack.

Though it took no more than a few minutes for Victor’s powerful wings to bring them back, it seemed like forever. Victor could feel the frantic beating of Yuuri’s heart against his claws and in his chest, the quick pulse driving him faster.

When he landed in the courtyard, he set Yuuri softly onto his feet before transforming back and the two of them ran into the castle, where a large crowd of inhabitants was already gathering. Outside, Mila and Georgi and the rest of the commanders shouted orders, gathering the troops into formation, preparing to mount a defense.

Victor dashed towards Yakov, rushing past the panicked faces of his household staff and clansmen. They congregated around him, frightened, and eager for consolation. Victor glimpsed the wide-eyed face of Yuri, his attention focused on them, his hand gripping his grandfather’s.

“What do we know?” Victor asked hurriedly as he skidded to a stop in front of Yakov. Yakov turned to him grimly.

“The King is coming,” he said shortly. Victor’s heart thudded in his chest.  _ No, _ he thought,  _ not now. _ Not before he had the chance to warn Yuuri. Not when he hadn’t even sent out the letters to the other clans requesting aid. Beside him, Yuuri clutched his hand to his chest, the other one gripping Victor’s sleeve.

Yakov continued, unaware of Victor’s internal turmoil. “He comes without an army. There is only one other dragon with him, carrying two soldiers.” Victor blinked, confused.

“Does he think he will defeat us with only two dragons and two men?”

Yakov shook his head. “I do not think he is here to fight just yet,” he said grimly, “I think he has come to discuss your surrender.”

Victor growled. “That will never happen,” he snapped. He pivoted on his heels and with a few short commands, sent everyone back to their posts. He did not need panic or clansmen underfoot to distract him from refusing the King. It was a precarious situation already and Victor knew the King was not a man accustomed to being refused.

Two loud thuds outside and a strong gust of wind that blew through the open doors announced the King’s arrival. For one panicked moment, Victor wanted to flee. He wanted to grab Yuuri by the hand, head out the back door, and just fly away. To the ocean, to the southern mountains, to any clans that would shelter them, he would simply take Yuuri and go.

But he couldn’t do that. Not to his clan, not to Yuuri, and not to himself. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a golden head peeking its way around the door that led to the kitchens. Yuri was watching and Victor knew that if ever he wanted Yuri to be a good clan leader, he had to do this right.

“Stay close to me,” Victor murmured to Yuuri. With a nod, Yuuri straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin, preparing himself to meet the King. Victor hoped nothing would ever break that spirit.

They walked together out the door into the glaring afternoon sun, shining down on his men in defense formation, Mila at the center, their weapons trained on the four men standing in the middle.

The King looked exactly as Victor had always imagined: a behemoth of a man, his face scarred by war and his hair grayed with time. He was the very picture of a dragon of old, an ancient species long since faded and replaced by smaller breeds like Victor. The King dwarfed even Chris, Victor’s tallest soldier, and made the weapons his soldiers held look like toys. He emanated an aura of complete confidence and power. All that he surveyed was beneath him and nothing would ever move him if he didn’t want it to.

It was the King’s eyes, however, that unnerved Victor the most. He knew his own eyes were blue and not at all indicative of his species. But the King’s were something wholly inhuman: red, flecked with black markings that radiated from his slit pupil, dark as the abyss. It was as if the King never fully shifted into human form, as if his dragon form was in fact his primary form. Victor stopped himself from shivering, feeling the fine hairs on the back of his neck lift as he looked into the King’s dragon eyes.

Behind the King stood Otabek Altin and the two soldiers that had accompanied him when Victor had met him on his way back from rescuing Georgi. One was fair, his hair black and waving to his ears, his face perfectly emotionless. The other was darker, his expression genial as his eyes darted around the courtyard, taking in the soldiers and the scenery, his gaze alive with interest.

“Victor,” the King said dismissively, his eyes sliding right past Victor’s chest to land on Yuuri, a flash of greed turning his expression dark. Before Victor could react to the slight of the King omitting his title, Mila struck. Her blade flashed in the sunlight as she aimed for the King’s neck. Victor had the sudden memory of when Mila had done the same to Yuuri that fateful day.

Only this time, Mila’s blade rang out when it struck the King’s wristguard as he lifted his arm to block the blow. Looking supremely unconcerned that he had just been attacked, the King barely glanced at her. Without warning, too fast even for Victor to follow, the King struck Mila across the face with his other arm, the force of his blow sending her sprawling onto the ground at Victor’s feet.

Yuuri immediately knelt down to help Mila sit up but Victor didn’t move. Though he had been insulted by the King, attacking another clan leader was akin to declaring war, and Victor could not allow Mila to go unpunished. Not if he wanted to seem in control of his clansmen. Victor could see a large red imprint on Mila’s cheek, the area already starting to bruise and swell, and a thin line of blood dripped from the corner of her lip. She glared at the King and moved to rise, but Yuuri’s firm hand on her arm kept her seated on the ground.

“She’s a feisty dragoness, that one.” the King said, an amused smile on his face, the look one would have when seeing a new toy. He jerked his chin towards Otabek.

“What say you?” he asked, and Victor realized that the King was presenting Mila to Otabek as a mate. Otabek remained stoic and emotionless, his neutral expression never faltering. He hadn’t even flinched when the King had hit Mila.

“I will do as my King wishes,” he answered, his tone even and calm. Victor admired his self-control, even as he bristled at it. Why hadn’t Otabek killed the King by now and saved him all of this trouble?

The King snorted and eyed Victor again, his expression calculating and cold.

“How much for the girl?” he asked briskly. Victor frowned, his fist tightening against his side.

“My people are not cattle to be bought and sold,” he said.

“Then you are an idealistic fool and it is a wonder your clan has survived this long.”

Movement drew both their gazes downwards. Yuuri had his hand placed on Mila’s uninjured cheek, the bondmarks on his hands glowing softly blue against his skin. As Victor watched, the swelling on Mila’s cheek abated, the color returning to normal, and her split lip healed instantly. She nodded her thanks to Yuuri and they both stood, dusting off their clothes.

When she finally looked at Victor, chagrined, he almost felt guilty. Her actions, after all, had all been to protect him. But he could not lose face in front of the King. He jerked his head towards the castle and looked away, not meeting her eyes.

“You are dismissed for today,” he said, keeping his voice steely and cold, “I will inform you of your punishment later.” It was the most he could do for now. Unsurprised but still unhappy, Mila squared her shoulders, picked up her fallen blade, and walked with as much dignity as she could towards the side of the courtyard leading to the barracks.

The King had returned his attention to Yuuri, who was now looking more and more uncomfortable under his gaze.

“Otabek,” the King said, his eyes never leaving Yuuri, “take our gift to their kitchens.” It was only then that Victor noticed the six large barrels lined up behind the King and his men. “These are filled with some of the best wine that my clan makes. Aged for over a century.”

Victor bristled, knowing it was a bribe, loathe to let even Otabek into his castle. While Otabek was operating under the pretense of loyalty, he would report everything he saw to the King afterwards.

“Yuri!” Victor called as he turned his head. Yuri stepped out from behind the door from where he had been hiding, looking nervous as the party’s gaze fell on him. “Take some men and help Otabek bring those casks to the kitchens.” Yuri nodded and rushed forward. In no time, each with a cask in their arms, Otabek, his men, Yuri, and two of Victor’s soldiers, were headed into the castle.

“A token of good faith,” the King said, his voice dripping with false sincerity, “Faith that you will honor my wishes and give me what I came for.” His eyes ran hungrily over Yuuri’s form, focusing on his hands. Victor could see that the bondmarks hadn’t faded as they usually did, as if they sensed danger and were serving as a visible sign of warning. Victor knew Yuuri was nervous. He reached down and took one of Yuuri’s hands, feeling how cold it had become.

“No,” he stated simply without any justification. The King smiled slowly, the effect unsettling. Victor felt Yuuri’s pulse quicken and his hand turn stiff, his grip almost painful.

“Do you really think you are in a position to refuse me?” the King asked softly, menacingly. Though Victor’s soldiers hadn’t said a word, the courtyard suddenly quieted as if they, as one, had stopped breathing. The danger in the King’s voice washed over him, a prickling sensation traveling up his arms and down his spine, leaving him cold and wary. “I have seen the results of his powers myself and he is wasted on your pitiful clan. I can unlock his true potential.”

Victor glared. “Like you did with Cao Bin?” The image of Hua Bin lying bruised and bloody on the infirmary table flashed through his mind. He would never allow that to happen to Yuuri.

“Ah, yes, my wayward blacksmith. So he did manage to find his way here,” the King mused casually, locking his hands behind his back, “My methods produce results, Victor. Why, in the few days that I had his daughter, Cao produced his finest pieces and in the shortest time. He, too, had his full potential unlocked. It is a pity he was weak and ran away.”

“Fled, you mean.”

The King waved away Victor’s statement. “No matter. I have filled his position with someone stronger and far more ambitious.”

He glanced at Yuuri, the hunger evident in his face, his slit pupils dilating. “Your mate, however, possesses an ability the likes of which I have not seen in over five centuries.” His tone was matter-of-fact, so sure that he would get what he wanted. “You can either hand him to me now, or I will be back to take him over the dead bodies of you and your entire clan.”

His words hung over the courtyard. Even Victor’s soldiers, well-trained as they were, couldn’t keep the shock off of their faces. Before Victor could stop him, Yuuri let go of his hand and took a step forward, stubborn anger plain on his face.

“I will never help someone like you,” he said, his soft voice stern and unyielding. Even wracked with fear for Yuuri, Victor couldn’t help the sliver of admiration and pride that shot through his heart. His Yuuri was always stronger and more courageous than he thought.

“And yet, I hear that is exactly how you ended up mated to him.” The King nodded towards Victor. A pang echoed in his heart, guilt suffusing him. The King was right, Victor knew. How could he so vehemently deny the King when he had done the exact same thing: used his position and the threat of annihilation to force Yuuri to join his clan, his only intention to use Yuuri’s powers for himself. Worse, he had wanted Yuuri in his bed and nothing had deterred him from that goal. At least the King had no such ulterior motive. And with his superior strength, he could easily snatch Yuuri from him.

“Leave him,” the King was saying as Victor battled his thoughts, “Come with me and I will spare him and his people.”

Yuuri crossed his arms in front of his chest. “If you kill him, then I will die too and you will never have access to my powers.”

“Do you truly believe a bond cannot be broken?” The King laughed, the sound grating and horrifying all at once. “How naive.” Victor’s dragon-half roared to life, incensed beyond measure at the thought of breaking Yuuri’s bond with it—no, with  _ him. _ Victor knew his dragon’s goal and his were one and the same. They were one and the same.

The marks on his arm glowed with warning, their light shining through his sleeves. Without thinking, he stepped forward, placing Yuuri behind him, half crouching as he readied himself to attack.

“I would kill him myself before I let you have him,” he snarled. The King snorted in amusement and annoyance, as one would with a naughty puppy.

“I had hoped to spare your people,” he said with a sigh, his voice dripping with feigned regret, “Your soldiers have much promise and my generals would have been glad to train them.”

Shaking his head, the King threw a mournful glance at Victor, the look in his eyes violent and threatening. “You will regret refusing me today,” he said, his gaze shifting to Yuuri. Victor knew well the unsettling effect of meeting the King’s reptilian eyes and he was glad when Yuuri didn’t waver as he glared back. The King’s gaze shifted behind them and Victor heard the approaching sounds of footsteps. Yuri had returned with Otabek and his men.

“We’re leaving,” the King said without preamble and as Otabek passed by Victor, he nodded in acknowledgement. The party, as one, faced Victor and Yuuri one last time.

“Enjoy the wine,” the King said, the promise clear in his voice, “I will return soon.” Victor glanced at Otabek and he stared straight back at him. His expression shifted not a bit, but Victor had the feeling he was trying to tell him something. But he couldn’t read Otabek’s eyes.

Without another word, the King stepped back and transformed into a dragon, bigger than any Victor had ever seen before, the last of his kind. He was three times as tall as Victor in dragon form, and equally as wide, each talon on his claws exuded lethal danger. His black hide, mottled with gray streaks, gleamed dangerously under the sun, and his bright scarlet eyes were even more prominent. With a stretch of his wings, he lifted himself off the ground, casting an ominous shadow over the courtyard.

Without another look, Otabek transformed similarly. He was noticeably smaller than his sire and his hide was a jet-black color, without a single spot of relief in the pure darkness. He waited just long enough for his men to scramble onto his back and grip his neck, before he, too, lifted into the air. Together, the two dragons flew northwards towards the mountains, leaving behind a stunned and silent courtyard.

Yuri was first to speak. “That Otabek,” he said, his voice filled with awe, “he’s really powerful.” Victor glared at him and Yuri shrugged.

“Yakov told me he was an ally,” he said, unconcerned, “He didn’t say much but he really enjoyed Minako’s food and the wine we gave him.”

Victor blinked, comprehension dawning, and without a word, he turned and ran through the castle doors, towards the kitchens. “Oy!” Yuri shouted after him, then started to follow. Yuuri was hot on Victor’s heels, confused but unquestioning. Victor was glad that he had that kind of blind faith in him. He hoped it would help later when he told Yuuri that he would have to leave.

Victor burst through the kitchen doors at a full sprint, just as Minako had pried open the top of the first of the King’s caskets. The wine inside was a deep red color, almost black, its smooth, heavy fragrance immediately saturated the air, velvety and intoxicating. Victor could tell that it was indeed a well-aged wine. The King hadn’t lied about that part, at least.

“Stop!” he ordered and Minako froze, the casket in her hands, tilted towards a decanter she had set on the kitchen table, about to ready the wine for drinking. Slowly, her eyes darting between the three who had ran in, she set the cask back on the ground.

“Victor, what’s wrong?” Yuuri asked urgently. Victor didn’t reply and instead motioned Yuuri forward to the cask as he bent to smell it. Even with his dragon’s nose, it took intense concentration to sift through the heavy layers of aromas wafting from the wine. But there! He found it: the thinnest, smallest hint of bitterness. He didn’t know what it was but deep in his gut, he knew this was what Otabek had been trying to warn him of.

Yuuri leaned over the cask as well. Though he didn’t possess Victor’s sense of smell, Victor knew that his knowledge of plants and medicines made him more than capable of discerning even the smallest inclusion of them. It took several careful sniffs and deep inhalations before Yuuri reared back in surprise.

“What did he put in the wine?” Victor asked. A part of him didn’t want to know.

“Deadly nightshade,” Yuuri said, the shock and certainty evident on his face, “Drinking this wine means certain death. Even my powers might not be enough to save someone.”

With coldness spreading through his chest, his mind stark with clarity and sureness about his path forward, Victor ordered the wine disposed of and left for his study. On the off chance that Victor would agree to hand Yuuri over to the King, he and his clan still would have been poisoned and left for dead. Victor swallowed against his dry throat. The sheer cruelty, even expected, didn’t fail to astound him.

Yuuri followed him out the door, the kitchen staff eerily silent behind them. In his chest, alongside his certainty in his plan, panic was building. It clawed at the back of his throat, at the base of his skull, settled heavily on his shoulders like chains. He knew the King would make his move but he didn’t know how much time he had, or rather, how little. Only when Yuuri was safely away from the castle, would he feel any semblance of calm.

At least, he hoped so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I actually really dislike putting an OC in a fanfic 'cause I like to stay as close to source material as possible. But none of the YOI characters really strike me as villainous enough, so unfortunately, it had to be done (｡╯︵╰｡)


	10. Chapter 10

“I am sending you back to your village,” Victor said as he rounded his desk, setting it between them like a barrier. His posture was stiff and unyielding, his face stern, his tone commanding. “You are not safe here.”

Yuuri had expected this, had known the moment the King had given him that look full of wanting, that Victor would try to send him away. He had seen the way Victor had started when the King mentioned how they had come to be bonded. He hadn’t missed the guilt that had shadowed Victor’s face or the way his shoulders had hunched, as if to ward off a blow. Yuuri wished he knew how to prove to him that he wasn’t like the King.

“I am not leaving,” Yuuri said calmly, folding his arms across his chest, “I will be the most useful here in the castle.” Victor let out an expletive and ran a hand through his hair, leaving it in wild disarray. His eyes flashed angrily at Yuuri, their blue glint almost seemed to light with fire.

“This isn’t about you being useful!” he said, his arm slicing through the air to emphasize his point, “Do you not understand? You’re not safe anymore. The King will come for you and I…I am not strong enough to stop him from taking you. I cannot protect you.” His voice was bitter, filled with self-loathing, and Yuuri ached to comfort him, to say anything to soothe him. But he couldn’t give in.

“If I leave, I can not protect  _ you. _ ”

“I promised your family, Yuuri.”

“And I promised your clan.”

Victor glared at him, a muscle twitching in his cheek as he clenched his jaw. “You’re being ridiculous and stubborn.”

Yuuri frowned right back. “You won’t change my mind. Just accept that I am staying here with you.”

“Yuuri…” Victor ran a hand through his hair, exasperation clear on his face. His voice had taken on a pleading tone, desperation threading through it. The sound tugged at Yuuri’s heart and he wanted nothing more than to give in and ease the trouble in his expression. Helplessly, he rounded the desk and wrapped his arms around Victor, pressing his face against his shirt. Victor hugged him back with crushing force, clutching fistful of his tunic in his hands.

“I just want to keep you safe,” he murmured helplessly into Yuuri’s hair.

“I know,” Yuuri said, “but I am safest here with you.”

“Your sister is going to castrate me,” Victor said darkly after a long silence. Yuuri chuckled.

“I won’t get hurt, I promise.”

The castle’s warning bells sounded, their ringing tones jerking through them in an instant. Mutely, they gaped at each other in shock. Had the King returned? Had he gathered his army and come back for Yuuri this quickly? Victor was first to speak.

“This discussion isn’t over,” he said as he grabbed Yuuri’s hand and ran towards the door. They raced up the stairs to the top of the castle. Mickey met them in the middle, pivoting to run right back up as he gave his report.

“A large group of people is headed directly for the castle, my lord!” Micky shouted as he ran, “I think they’re fleeing from something.” Yuuri blinked, confused.

“We are not under attack?” Victor sounded bewildered.

“No, my lord. But it seems that they are, and if they are headed our way, we may soon be, as well.”

“Do you recognize them?”

Mickey hesitated. “I believe it is His Lordship’s family and the rest of the people from his village.”

“What?” Yuuri cried. When they reached the top of the tower, he ran to the edge and leaned forward, squinting as hard as he could. But of course, he couldn’t see anything. Panicked, he pulled at Victor’s sleeve.

“Is it them? Can you see them?” he asked, his voice high and breathless with worry. Victor shielded his eyes from the sun, squinting into the horizon.

“It’s them,” he said, “And they’re being followed.”

“Followed by whom?”

Victor peered harder. “Mickey,” he said, his voice suddenly calm, its very lack of panic drawing the attention of every man with them on the tower, “take the men and head down to the courtyard. The King’s men are right behind His Lordship’s villagers. We need to help them.”

Yuuri’s vision darkened. The King had attacked his family so soon after his refusal. He had been so sure he would be safe with Victor, that he hadn’t given a thought to those he had left behind. If any of them were hurt, if any of them were killed, it would be his fault. Their blood would be on his hands. His grip on Victor’s sleeve tightened, the fabric clenched tightly in his fist.

“Yuuri, look at me,” Victor’s voice seemed to come from far away. He felt warm hands on his cheeks, raising his head. Slowly, Victor’s concerned face swam into view. “By the time we refused the King, he had already attacked your village. There is no way they would have been able reach the castle so quickly otherwise. It would have been the same result had you agreed.”

Yuuri could only stare mutely, clinging to every word, jumbled thoughts running through his mind. Was he not at fault? Was Victor right? He simply had to be. Victor wouldn’t lie to him, not about this. Slowly, Yuuri nodded.

“Good,” Victor dropped a quick kiss on his lips, the warmth from their contact spreading through him, thawing him. “Now, head to the infirmary. I will lead the men out to help and we will send anyone who is hurt over to you.”

Yuuri nodded again and pivoted on his heels, rushing down the stairs as Victor transformed behind him and pushed off the tower with the rushing sound of wings flapping. Already, Yuuri was running through lists of supplies and procedures in his mind, thinking about how to best set up the room.

But when he reached the infirmary, he realized that in the month he had been at the castle, he had trained the staff so well that there was nothing left for him to do except the actual healing. The room had been laid out most efficiently, with rows upon rows of small cots set far enough apart to allow for comfortable walking. Jars of salves and bottle of medicines had been sorted onto shelves for easy access, toweling and clean cloths in tall piles next to them.

“We are ready, my lord,” Sara called from her station near the door that led to the kitchen. She sounded grim but determined. Yuuri nodded at her and, with nothing else to do, hurried back to the castle entrance, anxiety nipping at his heels. He would be there to see the first of the arrivals, and to watch over Victor and his—no, their—clan. They were his family now, and he would do anything to protect them.

He could see Victor in the distance, his silver hide flashing under the sun as he blasted a stream of fire towards the soldiers on the ground. The clan troops had given the arriving villagers a wide berth, splitting into two groups as they galloped their horses past them, and reconvening in front of the King’s soldiers. The clanging of swords and shields rang through the air, thundering hooves and shouting filling the empty spaces between.

Yuuri’s family was at the front, riding for their lives towards the castle. He breathed a sigh of relief that though they were scared and panicked, they looked unharmed. He waved at them with both arms, letting them know to ride towards him in the courtyard.

An arrow struck the ground next to his feet, narrowly avoiding his leg as it landed. Yuuri jumped back, his heart racing, fear renewed. The King had sent archers. A wild-eyed scan of the field showed them dotted along the path to the castle, their bows aimed and ready.

In the next instant, a rain of arrows, so dense they darkened the sky, was flying towards the castle courtyard and the villagers on their way. Cries of shock sliced through the air and Yuuri ducked his head, throwing his arms up to protect himself. There wasn’t time to run back to the castle, not without getting hit. Yuuri braced himself for the impact, helpless and horrified. How many would die?

A great gust of wind blasted from behind him and a large figure flew over his head, so close, he could feel its heat. Yuuri gasped and looked up just in time to see the tail of a large golden dragon pass him by, the sun bouncing off its gilded hide. The arrows that had been flying towards him were burning to ashes in the sky, sprinkling harmlessly down over the arriving villagers.

They clattered into the courtyard, the castle staff rushing towards them to help them off their horses and into safety, others grabbing the horses’ reins and leading them out of the way of the other villagers. Yuuri was crushed in a hug with his family, but he didn’t have time to talk. He directed them into the castle and ran out to the edge of the courtyard.

The golden dragon, who could only be Yuri, had joined Victor in the sky. Yuuri could see the surprise on Victor’s face, and the anger. His eyes narrowed and his wings beat furiously. But he couldn’t spare Yuri the attention. Together, they blasted jets of blue fire at the King’s troops until finally, decimated, they retreated towards the mountains, small factions of troops running pell-mell towards safety.

Victor and Yuri, once they were sure the troops wouldn’t return, flew back to the courtyard, landing and transforming just as the rest of the clan rode back on horseback. Yuuri healed the surprisingly few and minor injuries as the men passed him by. But he couldn’t help glancing at Victor, whose expression was one of a man about to explode. He could barely hear what was being said, but Yuri was glaring back at him, his voice growing louder and louder.

“—would have been killed without me! You should be thanking me!” Yuri shouted.

“You directly disobeyed my orders! If you were a man, I would take that as a challenge to my title.”

“Well maybe it is!”

The silence that followed made Yuuri nervous. His eyes darted between them. Surely Victor wouldn’t—

“So be it,” Victor said quietly.

Yuuri ran to him, grabbing his arm as he reached for his sword. “Victor, no!” he cried, “He’s just a child.”

“I’m not going to hurt him,” Victor replied calmly, “But he needs to learn that my word is law, even for him.”

“This is exactly why you’re no longer fit to be Lord,” Yuri snarled, already in fighting position, his sword aimed at Victor, “You’ve grown soft since you met him.” He jerked his head towards Yuuri. “You should have just let the King have him.”

Victor’s eyes narrowed and Yuuri could feel the anger building in him. He stepped back and out of the way, right as Yuri charged.

Their blades met in a loud clang as Victor defended himself. Yuuri knew Victor wouldn’t do any harm, but he wasn’t sure about Yuri. And the way Yuri was fighting, the way he wasn’t holding back any of his blows, frightened him. He started to move forward as they fought across the courtyard, but a hand on his arm held him back. It was Yakov, looking grim, his eyes never leaving the fight.

He shook his head. “Yuri will never learn otherwise, my lord,” he said, “I am afraid this is how it must be done.” Yuuri frowned but didn’t object. Though his heart leapt to his throat with every swing of their blades, he didn’t try to stop the fight. Victor was more than skilled enough to hold Yuri back from doing any real harm.

Yuri had improved in the month since Victor had forbidden him from touching a blade—more than improved. Yuuri furrowed his brow as he studied his movements. He would go so far as to say that Yuri had found another teacher in the clan, someone with great skill who had managed to harness his natural aggression and turn it into a strength that could be channeled into his bladework. Yuuri could see that Victor noticed it too, by the way his eyes sharpened and his stance changed into one more alert, more wary than he had started with.

It couldn’t have been Victor, then, who had trained Yuri. Mila would never dare to go against Victor’s orders, and Nikolai didn’t have the knowledge necessary to train his grandson. Then who…? Yuuri blinked and turned his head, just in time to see Yakov look away, a stubborn grimace on his face as he noticed Yuuri’s realization.

“Mr. Feltsman!” Yuuri said, shocked, “Did you train Yuri in secret?”

Yakov sighed and rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. “I did the same for Victor, my lord. An heir must always be prepared for the worst and with the King’s intentions, I thought it best to be ready.”

Yuuri frowned. He didn’t like the implication that there would be a need for Yuri to take over soon, but he understood the necessity of it.

Even with Yuri’s increased skills, however, Victor was still superior and Yuuri could see that everyone knew it. A crowd had started to gather now that panic over the King’s soldiers had subsided. Clansmen, villagers, even the castle staff, alerted by the noise, had come to watch. The atmosphere was serious and tense. It seemed that the gravity of the situation was apparent to all.

Victor drove Yuri out of the courtyard to the grassland beyond, keeping him away from the crowd and Yuuri was glad. With the speed and the fervor at which they clashed, the chances of someone getting hurt was vastly increased. But Yuri seemed to see it another way. The second his foot touched grass, he flung his blade at Victor in a last desperate attack and Victor dove out of the way to avoid it. In the second he was distracted, Yuri transformed and, with a loud roar, shot a blue ball of flames towards Victor.

The crowd gasped in shock. “Fool!” Yakov spat. Yuuri’s heart was pounding and without thinking, he shook off Yakov’s hand and ran towards Victor, whose sleeve had caught fire but with a quick roll in the grass, managed to put it out.

“Stay back!” he shouted as Yuuri approached, his hand holding his singed arm, “I need to stop him.” Victor ran, sprinting across the grass, diving from side to side as Yuri chased him, leading him away from the castle. On a long hill, he jumped and, in mid-air, transformed just as another blast of fire almost hit him. In a second, he was airborne, claws outstretched, wings beating furiously as he dove at Yuri.

The sound when they collided in the air, roaring and screeching, was terrible. Yuuri covered his ears, still following slowly. Behind him, Mila came galloping on her horse, leading another for Yuuri to ride. With a nod of thanks, Yuuri pulled himself up and together, they followed the dueling pair of dragons as they clashed over and over.

Sunlight glinted off a streak of blood on Victor’s left flank, a few stray drops falling onto the grass below them. Yuuri winced as he watched. He could see now that Yuri had snapped, let the rage of battle overtake him. His eyes were unfocused, tinged red, so different from his usual blue. He struck with abandon, digging his claws and his teeth into Victor any chance he could.

But Victor was stronger, faster, bigger, and though he suffered through some gashes and scratches, he managed to pull Yuri from the sky. With claws clamped tightly against Yuri’s wings, they dropped to the ground with a tremendous crash and Victor pinned Yuri to the ground, one lethal claw on his throat, the other poised above his heart. When Yuri struggled, Victor pressed a talon hard enough to draw blood and roared his victory to the sky.

Yuuri realized then that Victor was not immune to bloodlust. His dragon-half had been set free and he was thirsty for domination. Yuuri spurred his horse faster, Mila hot on his heels. He managed to reach them first and leap from his horse right as Victor lowered his head, jaws open, ready to deal a deadly blow.

“Victor, stop!” Yuuri cried out, colliding with Victor’s arm and wrapping his hands around it. He could see that Yuri’s eyes had returned to blue, his dilated pupils and the heavy rise and fall of his chest belying his fear. Victor’s jaws snapped closed on empty air, a hair’s length away from Yuri’s throat before he whirled, his snarling jaws so close to Yuuri’s face that he could almost taste his fire. For a long, breathless moment, they stared at each other and Yuuri forced himself to breathe slowly, to calm down.

“Can you feel my heart beating, Victor?” he whispered. Hesitantly, though he panted harshly, Victor nodded. Slowly, his eyes lost their red hue and he sat back on the ground, taking his claws from Yuri’s torso, huffing a breath as he did so.

Yuuri knelt next to Yuri’s still form on the ground. His golden hide was covered in dirt and smeared in places with blood. Yuuri pressed his hands to his neck but Yuri jerked away with a whine, moving to stand until Victor growled low and deep and he stilled. Yuuri tried again, pressing his hands to Yuri’s shoulders, feeling the wounds and the hurts he had to heal.

“Can you turn back for me?” Yuuri asked, “I might not be able to heal you fully in dragon form.” Yuri groaned, closing his eyes. Then with great effort, he slowly shifted back into human form. He lay limp and unmoving, his hair laying messily over his face, strands of it fluttering as he breathed. Yuuri laid a gentle hand on his arm and let the healing wind rise around him, the warmth of it flowing through him and into Yuri. The gashes visible through Yuri’s torn clothing knit themselves together as Yuuri watched, until he was whole again, nothing hurt except his pride.

Yuuri helped him stand on shaky legs and led him towards Mila, who had dismounted, to help him on to her horse. But Victor’s tail snaked around, blocking their path, and Yuuri realized then that Victor hadn’t transformed. When he looked over, Victor shook his head and jerked his chin at Mila with a huff. Somehow, she understood, and quickly tied the reins of Yuuri’s horse to hers, then mounted and with her dragon strength, pulled Yuri into place in front of her.

Yuri didn’t raise his head or look at either of them, letting his hair cover his expression as they rode away back to the castle. Yuuri turned around, confused why they were returning alone, only to find Victor staring at him. Though his eyes were completely blue, his pupils were dilated, still overcome with the fervor of battle. Yuuri could tell he was agitated, restless. Victor was— Yuuri blinked and glanced down, suddenly aware of why they hadn’t left.

Victor was aroused.

His cock jutted from him, impossibly tall and thick, the setting sun gleaming off the ridged silver skin covering his length. As Yuuri watched, Victor grew longer, thicker, until he was beyond a size Yuuri had ever seen or imagined. He swallowed against his suddenly dry throat, his chest clenching tightly. He glanced up to see Victor still watching him, the weight of his intent gaze weighing on him.

Yuuri flinched and stepped back.

Victor briefly closed his eyes, letting out a self-deprecating huff as he turned away, heading towards the tree cover behind him. And Yuuri realized what he had done.

He sprinted forwards into Victor’s path and raised his arms, grabbing Victor by the muzzle and tugging his head down. Victor obliged unwillingly and Yuuri laid his cheek against his snout, hugging him with his arms so he couldn’t move away.

“I was just surprised,” he murmured against Victor’s skin. Victor snorted in disbelief. Yuuri ran a hand along his jaw, petting Victor in what he hoped was a comforting manner, feeling the smoothness of his hide.

“I want you like this,” he said, “From the moment you tried to warn me off, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.” He could feel his face heating at his blatant words. “I was simply caught unaware, that’s all.” Victor shook his head, pulling back out of Yuuri’s arms.

“What’s wrong?”

Victor glanced derisively down at his rampant erection, stared pointedly at Yuuri, and started to push past, his wings already unfurling for his escape.

“I love you,” Yuuri blurted out.

Victor paused mid-step and Yuuri closed his eyes. He hadn’t meant to say it so soon. He had wanted to wait for a calmer time, perhaps after the war, when they could fully explore their life together. But Victor needed him now, needed to know that Yuuri wasn’t afraid of him, that he wanted to be with him. In every form.

He didn’t regret it. He couldn’t, when it was the truth. Victor had turned back towards him, his eyes darting around Yuuri’s face, trying his hardest to read his expression. Slowly he nudged Yuuri’s chest with his nose, a soft questioning sound fell from his jaws. Yuuri smiled and petted his snout.

“I love you,” he said again, quietly this time, confident in his feelings. Victor squeezed his eyes shut and let out a long, shuddering breath. Yuuri felt their heart thud in his chest, a feeling like euphoria spreading through him. Victor eyed him longingly and Yuuri chuckled, knowing exactly what was going through his mind.

“But if you change back now, we won’t be able to make love like this.” Victor grumbled and huffed. The rushed, battle-induced harshness in his eyes had been replaced by a softer, but no less ardent heat. Yuuri took a breath and stepped back. He kicked off his boots and with shaking fingers, untied the string on his trousers, letting them fall to the floor with his undergarments. He slipped his shirt over his head and tossed it on his pile of discarded clothing before he squared his shoulders and looked at Victor again.

Victor was still, alert and attentive, only his chest moving as he breathed. Yuuri could feel his hot gaze run over him from head to toe, could feel it arousing him, sending blood to his groin. His erection was half-formed already and he could feel it bobbing gently between his legs. His heart was pounding, half excitement, half cautious anticipation and a shiver ran through him. His nipples peaked in the light breeze that blew across the grasslands and Victor’s eyes immediately honed in on his chest.

Yuuri wasn’t sure what to do next, until Victor jerked his head towards the forest behind him and Yuuri realized that the two of them were still visible to the guards standing watch on the castle tower. With heated cheeks, he led Victor into the cover of the trees, stopping when his tail curled in front of him, blocking his path. They had reached a wide, grassy clearing, cool and shaded from view, dappled with sunlight peeking through the leaves.

Gently, Victor nudged him with his snout until Yuuri realized he wanted him to lie down. The grass was soft under his back and he settled into it, unsure of what to expect next. Victor huffed, letting out a breath of warm air that enveloped him deliciously. Yuuri arched languidly, looking up at Victor with hooded eyes, letting him see how hard he had become, how excited he made him. He was rewarded with a view of Victor’s large tongue poking from his mouth as he panted. Then Victor lowered his head towards him.

Alarmed, Yuuri sat up. “Victor, wait. What—” He threw his head back and gasped. In a single smooth stroke, Victor licked up his legs, covered the length of his cock with his long tongue, all the way to the tips of his nipples. Then he did it again. And again. Slow, decadent licks, until Yuuri was wet and shivering with sensation, his fingers digging into the grass floor, all of his nerve endings alive with stimulation.

On a last lick, Victor stopped at his groin and ever so gently, probed Yuuri’s entrance with the tip of his tongue, pushing slowly past the ring of muscle. Yuuri spread his legs, giving Victor better access, pushing against his tongue and moaning as it slid inside him. He was being stretched and filled so fully, and he loved every second of it. Delicately, Victor nudged and prodded until he could close his jaws around Yuuri’s hips, enclosing Yuuri’s leaking cock in his mouth, his tongue slowly working inside him. Yuuri cried out, hands grabbing desperately at Victor’s snout, fingers digging into the silver skin that covered it.

Victor paid him no mind. Over and over, he worked his tongue, dragging it against that spot inside Yuuri that made him see stars. He alternated it with a gentle sucking motion, drawing out every ounce of pleasure Yuuri could take. Yuuri could feel his mind turning blank, pleasure and pressure building within him, spreading through his legs and into his belly.

He thrashed, crying out as Victor sucked harder. His hips pressed involuntarily against the roof of Victor’s mouth and his cock rubbed helplessly against the ridges there. He could feel himself leaking, his seed spilling heedlessly down his hips and into Victor’s mouth. The taste seemed only to spur him on, to push his tongue deeper and deeper inside of Yuuri, faster and rougher than before.

The intensity of Victor’s suckling grew stronger, until Yuuri could feel pleasure being ripped from every pore in his body. On a particularly hard suck, Yuuri came, moaning Victor’s name as he jerked and strained, emptying himself into Victor’s mouth. Victor held still while he spasmed in ecstasy and through the haze of pleasure in his mind, Yuuri could hear him swallowing the seed that came out of him.

It was only when he lay limp and pliant that Victor slowly slid his tongue from his body and ran it over his stomach and groin, lapping up every last drop of Yuuri’s release, before finally letting him go. Panting, spent, but far from done, Yuuri glanced downwards, his eyes riveted on Victor and his cock, bobbing heavily between his haunches. He wanted that sensation of being filled again, he craved that feeling of possession that only came when Victor was inside of him. He could feel his arousal renewing, his cock already half hard.

Gingerly, Victor crept forward, gently holding Yuuri’s legs apart with his claws as he fitted himself to his body. Yuuri felt the head of Victor’s cock, smooth and hard and hot, press against his entrance. He was so big that Yuuri doubted for a second that he would fit. Then Victor nudged at him and he lost all semblance of thought.

Even slick and loosened as he was by Victor’s tongue, the stretch to fit him was almost unbearable. Victor was patient and gentle, holding still when Yuuri flinched, and pressing steadily when Yuuri relaxed. Yuuri could feel himself burning but he didn’t know if it was from how hot Victor’s cock was or from the pain of being stretched to his limit. He could feel his powers working to heal him as Victor entered.

A bulge had started at the bottom of his stomach, It was stretching and growing, made even more prominent by his position on his back, the thin skin of his stomach showing every inch of Victor’s cock inside him. Yuuri watched it, his eyes glazing over in pleasure and excitement, as the bulge grew and grew, until Victor was fully seated and he was so filled he couldn’t breathe. This was what it meant to be a dragon’s mate, he thought in wonder. Hesitantly, Yuuri ran his hands along his bulging stomach, feeling how hard it was, how it throbbed under his touch. The blue light from his bondmarks bounced off his skin, throwing the shadows from his bulging stomach over him.

Victor’s claws came down on the grass besides Yuuri’s head and he lowered his muzzle to huff into Yuuri’s hair. Yuuri turned and kissed him, murmuring nonsense love words as Victor groaned deep in his chest. With soft nudges and gentle thrusts, Victor eased them into a slow rhythm and Yuuri lifted his legs, hooking his feet into Victor’s haunches for a better angle. He could feel every ridge, every bump, on Victor’s cock, rubbing him inside and the unbearable eroticism of it tingled all the way to his fingertips.

He could see when Victor pulled out, could feel it in the stretch of the skin on his stomach when Victor pushed back in and he moaned desperately, straining against him. Victor’s pace increased and Yuuri clung to him, his cries turning to sobs as Victor thrust into him. Victor was growling now, the rumbling of his chest vibrating against Yuuri’s nipples, making him cry out louder, lightning arcs of pleasure shooting through his body from his overstimulated nerves and colliding in his mind in a frenzied cloud of color.

For endless moments, Yuuri clinged to Victor, all of his muscles growing taut with anticipation. Tingling spread in his hips, his stomach, all down his legs and he felt it build, felt it grow and stretch until he was nothing but a being of pure pleasure. Victor pushed deeper into him, his movements almost too fast for Yuuri to bear. His voice broke as he moaned and sobbed, so wracked with sensation that he couldn’t think, could only writhe, aching for release.

With a wretched groan, Victor broke his rapid rhythm, pounding Yuuri into the ground, his desperate thrusts making Yuuri’s back arch off the flattened grass beneath him. Yuuri wailed Victor’s name as he burst suddenly and came, his hips spasming, his cock shooting white jets of come wildly. They landed on his chest, on the grass floor, on Victor’s claws, but Yuuri couldn’t see them. His vision had blackened and he could only clutch at Victor, his mouth open in a silent scream, body shaking helplessly as ecstasy washed over him.

He clenched tightly around Victor’s cock, his greedy muscles holding on to it as he jerked. And Victor came with a roar, his hot explosion of come sloshing inside Yuuri, inflating his stomach for a terrifying second before it gushed out of his entrance, flowing around Victor’s straining, pulsing cock. It seemed to last forever, the sensation of being pumped full of Victor’s seed making him come again and again until he could do nothing but tremble against the tide.

When finally, they were both limp and panting, Victor used the last of his energy to pull slowly out. Yuuri moaned almost soundlessly, his throat hoarse, at the loss. His legs fell bonelessly open on the grass, the last of Victor’s seed flowing out of him in a hot stream, the bulge of his stomach flattening slowly as he emptied.

Yuuri sighed contentedly and smiled up at Victor, exhausted but fulfilled. He finally felt like a true mate to Victor and he could see that while Victor couldn’t smile, he looked nonetheless satisfied and replete. He pressed his hand slowly against his flat stomach, marveling at the change and wishing he had the energy to take Victor again, immediately; to feel that possession, that belonging.

Victor ran his tongue over him one last time, licking off stray droplets of his spent passion before, with slightly shaking claws, picking up Yuuri’s limp body and cradling him against his chest. Yuuri snuggled into it, laying his cheek against him and listening to the comforting sound of their heartbeat. Though the night air had turned cool, he felt nothing but warmth and peace.

Victor shook out his wings tiredly and though it took a few flaps, managed to push them through the tree covering and head back towards the castle. Yuuri closed his eyes and let himself drift to sleep, safe in the knowledge that Victor would protect him and bring him home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was the entire reason I wrote this fic XD
> 
> You might be thinking "Haha what a silly author", but I am 100% serious (・`ω´・) The sex scene started it all. I wanted Victor in dragon form (all worked up from a fight) and a human Yuuri who is completely on board with it. Then I thought, "How do I make this a natural situation that doesn't end in death?" Which led to a 9-chapter lead-up haha. I'm glad I finally got here <(￣︶￣)>


	11. Chapter 11

Victor knew he was running out of time, could feel it in the urgency that seeped through the atmosphere in the castle, in the tinge of panic that colored every breath he took. Still, he took his time as he cleaned Yuuri and himself, tucking the former gently into bed, conscious of how sore he must be. Yuuri murmured sleepily and held out his hand for Victor to join him under the blankets. Victor knew he wouldn’t be able to leave once he did, so he laid himself down on top of the blankets instead, holding Yuuri’s hand.

His other hand played with the hair that fell over Yuuri’s face, sweeping them behind his ear, so he could see his long eyelashes. He couldn’t help remembering their passionate coupling in the forest or the way Yuuri had taken him inside, welcomed him, even. And he remembered the moment earlier, when Yuuri had said he’d loved him, words that Victor had never expected, never even allowed himself to hope for. He couldn’t help the gratitude he felt.

“I love you too,” he whispered, unsure of how far Yuuri had gone in sleep. But his small, sleepy smile told Victor that he was awake enough to hear. Victor was suffused with warmth, a wave of contentment washing over him until he couldn’t help but beam at Yuuri’s sleeping face. But as quickly as it came, it ebbed away, leaving him cold and determined in what he must do to protect their newfound feelings, their newly forged bond. To protect Yuuri.

With a last kiss to Yuuri’s forehead, Victor rolled off the bed and dressed quickly before descending the stairs to the main hall. He was about to announce some upsetting news to the people gathered there, and the sooner he did it, the more time they would all have to prepare. Yakov met him by the foot of the stairs, as if he had been expecting him.

“You’re back,” Yakov grunted, “We have all been waiting for you. Where is Lord Yuuri?” Yakov peered behind him.

“He’s resting,” Victor said sternly, “I don’t want him disturbed in any way.” Yuuri had pushed his body to the limit and Victor knew he would ask more of him. Every second he had to rest was to be used to its fullest.

Yakov harrumphed without comment. “It is lucky His Lordship’s villagers had us to turn to for help,” he said as they walked together towards the door that led to the hall. Victor stopped, his foot half-raised off the ground.

“Lucky?” Victor said. Yakov nodded. “No, Yakov. It was all planned.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think of how long it takes to travel from Yuuri’s village to the castle. Even at a full gallop, it would take at least a few hours.”

“And the King left no more than an hour before Mickey spotted them.”

Victor nodded, “He had his men attack them before he even arrived for our little chat.”

“But he didn’t know what your decision would have been.”

“No, but the King is smart enough to have a plan for each outcome, and contingencies for his contingencies.”

“The wine…” Yakov murmured, and Victor nodded, frowning.

“And now this,” Victor confirmed.

“So he knew the villagers would come here, then?”

“Did you notice how few injuries we had, in our troops and among the villagers? Even as I was fighting in dragon form, I noticed it. The King’s soldiers, they weren’t really trying to attack. They would get close enough to give the impression of attacking, then back off again.”

“But the arrows?” Yakov countered.

Victor remembered the fear he’d felt when he saw the arrows set loose, aimed straight at Yuuri and the fleeing villagers. He shook his head. “Most likely paper or soft wood,” he said.

“Then why attack them? Simply for revenge against Lord Yuuri? Why would he send them here?”

“To kill us all in one blow,” Victor said calmly, grimly, “He led them all here like pigs to the slaughter. And if we do not get everyone out, that is exactly what we will be.”

He pushed open the door to the main hall and immediately, the chatter of conversation died. Hundreds of pairs of eyes, dragon and human, watched as he walked to his chair at the top of the room. They made way for him as he passed, parting just from the force of his presence. Until a small, slight figure stepped into his path.

Squaring his shoulders, Yuri lifted his chin and looked Victor right in the eyes. He was frowning, his eyes narrowed in a glare, but Victor could tell that it was from embarrassment and nerves, rather than from anger. He waited as Yuri seemed to run through a script in his head.

“I am sorry I disobeyed your orders and put myself in danger,” Yuri said. Victor cocked an eyebrow and Yuri rushed to finish when he didn’t reply. “And I am sorry I said you should let the King have your bondmate. His Lordship doesn’t deserve that.”

Victor nodded, satisfied. He knew how proud Yuri was and how much it must eat at him to have to apologize. “I forgive you,” he said, “but after things are calmer, we will have to think up an appropriate atonement for you.”

Yuri scuffed at the floor with his boots but didn’t disagree. Victor patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. He was never completely certain how to handle Yuri, given how different their personalities were. But he knew Yuri had a good heart. “You will do just fine when your time comes,” he said.

Yuri ducked his head and let his hair cover his face as he walked back to his grandfather, who was waiting for him in the crowd. Victor finished the rest of the walk to his chair unimpeded. The room was silent as he sat and he allowed himself a moment to survey the room. Curious, wary faces looked back at him. He nodded slightly to the Katsukis near the front.

“My lord,” a voice called from the back, “where is His Lordship?”

“I am afraid he will not be joining us tonight. He needs to rest and prepare for tomorrow night.”

“What’s happening tomorrow night?”

Victor cleared his throat and raised his voice. “Tomorrow night, you will all be leaving the castle. And I don’t mean just our visitors. Every person here tonight will be leaving.”

There were gasps and cries of protest. A man Victor did not recognize, a villager, sturdy and gruff, stood up and addressed him, letting his voice carry over the murmuring crowd. “With all due respect, my lord, we came here seeking shelter.”

“I realize that,” Victor said, “and it pains me to say it but we are not equipped to protect all of you. You would be safer elsewhere.”

“But where will we go?”

“To an ally of ours in the south, the Baranovskaya clan. They will be able to shelter all of you.” The crowd chattered amongst themselves again.

“Wait, Victor,” Yakov whispered, leaning over so that no one else would hear. “We have not had a chance to send the letters.”

“We’ll have to take our chances,” Victor said quietly, “I will write a letter and send it with you.”

“Are you not coming with us, my lord?” a clansman shouted.

Victor’s smile was grim. “No. The King needs to think that everyone is still here, to buy you all enough time to escape.” More protests rang through the room.

“But, Your Lordship-”

“My lord, you must!”

Victor held up a hand and the crowd silenced.

“I cannot go with you,” he said, “If I am not here when the King arrives, he will immediately give chase and your escape will have been for naught.”

“Then we will stay with you, my lord!”

“No.” Victor let a little bit of his dragon’s roar color his voice. “As your lord, it is my duty to ensure the survival of the clan, and I am ordering you all to leave.”

There was a stunned, unhappy silence until, almost lazily, the kitchen door opened and Minako strolled out, her expression sardonic.

“Since I was not a part of your original clan, I will stay and keep you company,” she said with a tilt of her head, leaning against the wall.

Victor sputtered. “What are you talking about? You are as much a part of the clan as I am.”

“And you will need another person here to keep up the pretense that everyone has stayed,” she said reasonably, “Who else but the castle cook accompanied by the smell of food being prepared for a hundred soldiers.” Victor frowned. He could see the logic behind her argument but even so…

“I can not promise your safety,” he said quietly, regretfully. Minako shrugged one shoulder elegantly.

“You helped me once, years ago. I have always wanted to repay the favor.”

Mila pushed forwards from the crowd. “My lord! I, too, will stay with you. If your lieutenant isn’t with you, the King will be suspicious.”

Victor frowned. “No, Mila. I would rather you—”

“Me too, Your Lordship.” Chris was next, waving with a smile completely inappropriate for the situation. Soon, the room was ringing with shouts and offers to help. Victor was stunned into speechlessness. His chest tightened and he had to blink the sudden moisture from his eyes. He had been prepared to stare down the King’s army alone, fighting for whatever few hours he could hold them off for a chance that the clan would make it to safety. He had never expected that others would feel the same. The gratitude for his people almost overwhelmed him.

But if he didn’t stop them now, he would be seeing off Yuuri the next night as he traveled to their southern ally alone. He held up his hands and the crowd, currently arguing over who would be most useful, quieted.

“I am grateful—truly—for your offers,” he said, “but I can not in good conscience allow anyone who is not a soldier, to stay. Even the soldiers I must limit to just enough to keep up the pretense.” He appointed Mila and Chris, the ones he knew he couldn’t dissuade, to decide on how many soldiers they needed for their fake army. The rest of the clansmen and villagers were ordered home to rest. The next day would be the one day they had to pack all of their belongings, and they would need as much time as possible.

He turned to Yuri, who hadn’t moved as the crowd left, leaving the hall empty and cavernous. “Yuri, that means you, too, must go.”

Yuri frowned ferociously. “But I’m the only other one who can transform! You need me!”

Victor nodded. “I do need you,” he said, “I need you to lead the clan should anything happen to me. You are the only one who can.” Though Yuri didn’t argue, his face, already pale, lost what color it had left. He looked his age suddenly and though it pained Victor to have to impress upon him the how many lives he held in his hands, he knew it was something he could no longer avoid.

Yuri gave a sharp nod. “I will go and pack,” he said, and with a sharp pivot, turned and headed out of the castle, Nikolai not far behind. Victor watched him go, fondly admiring the set of his shoulders and the way his posture never faltered. The hall was slowly emptying of soldiers as one by one, Mila and Chris sent them to the barracks to pack. When Yuri was out of sight, Victor turned to Yakov beside him. Yakov immediately shook his head.

“My place is with you, Vitya.”

Victor smiled. “You have been a great help to me, Yakov. All these years, you have never failed to give me the right advice.” Yakov harrumphed and turned his head, uncomfortable with the sincerity in Victor’s voice. “Yuri needs that now. He’s young, Yakov, younger that I was. I need you to help him the way you helped me.”

Yakov grumbled and protested but ultimately gave in and left the hall, leaving behind Victor, Mila, Chris, Minako, a handful of soldiers, and the Katsukis. They had been patiently waiting to speak with him since they had arrived. He let Mila and Chris talk strategy with the soldiers as he approached them, relieved that they didn’t look angry with him.

“Is it true?” Mari asked the second Victor was within earshot, “The King wants to take Yuuri?”

Victor nodded and the Katsukis exchanged worried glances. Toshiya squeezed Hiroko’s hands in his. “But I won’t let that happen,” Victor said with conviction, “I will keep him safe and hidden as long as I can.” Mari sniffed but didn’t respond and Victor knew that she didn’t believe him. He couldn’t blame her, really. He wasn’t sure he believed in his own skills enough.

Hiroko patted his cheek and swept the hair from his eyes in a motherly fashion, the expression on her face one of concern. “You look tired,” she said softly, “You should rest as well.” The guilt Victor felt weighed on his shoulders and he had to stop himself from shrugging.

“I’m sorry Yuuri isn’t here right now. I’m afraid he was rather tired after…earlier,” he said, “but you will be able to see him in the morning when he wakes up and he will be with you as you travel south.” Hiroko glanced at Toshiya, while Mari let out a snort.

“Yuuri will not want to leave you, Victor.” Hiroko said, “And if he is staying, then so are we.” Victor frowned and opened his mouth to speak.

“My lord, this is the final batch,” Chris said, his voice loud from across the room. Victor turned and counted with a glance. Almost a half dozen soldiers in addition to himself, Mila, Chris, and Minako. He wondered grimly how long they would last, though he didn’t let it show on his face. Instead, he smiled, plastering a genial expression on his face.

“That makes nine of us, then,” he said, “More than enough to hold the King at bay for a while.”

“Ten,” Yuuri’s quiet voice said from the doorway that led to the staircase. The attention in the room shifted to him and he stepped gingerly forward. Victor’s heart swelled at the sight of him and he wanted nothing more than to run to him and hold him to his chest. But he stopped himself. He could see that Yuuri was still tired and sore. His steps were careful and slow and he didn’t have the usual snap in his movements.

“I am staying with you,” Yuuri said. Victor frowned at him. He had hoped to have this discussion in private after they were both well-rested and thinking with clear minds. With a glance, Victor dismissed the troops and as one, they shuffled out of the hall to the barracks. Minako took her cue and loudly asked if the Katsukis were hungry, then without waiting for a reply, shooed them back to the kitchens with her.

Victor turned back to his mate, who had crossed his arms over his chest and was frowning rather mulishly back at him. Victor wanted to smooth his rumpled hair and kiss his pouting lips. He settled for gathering Yuuri into his arms, and placing a kiss on his forehead instead.

“How do you feel?” Victor asked, laying his cheek on Yuuri’s hair.

“Like you’re trying to distract me,” Yuuri mumbled against his chest before letting out a long sigh and leaning against him, “I feel fine. A bit sore, perhaps.”

“Only a bit?”

“I healed myself when I woke up,” Yuuri explained, “but there wasn’t much left to be healed. You were quite…thorough…in your preparation.” The blush that colored his cheeks made Victor smile.

For a long moment, they held each other silently, Yuuri’s arms wrapping around Victor’s waist. He had too much to say, so much that he didn’t know where to begin. They had only just realized how they felt about each other and now he was sending Yuuri away for who knew how long. Victor squeezed his eyes shut, the ache in his chest throbbing.

“I don’t want to go,” Yuuri said finally, breaking the silence.

“And I don’t want you to go,” Victor replied, “but you must.”

“I would be more useful here, with you. Without me, you—”

“Without you, I will be less worried.”

“I heal, remember?” Yuuri said, pulling back to look Victor in the eyes, his expression pleading. Victor’s chest panged and he wanted so much to keep Yuuri with him.

“But your family doesn’t,” he said, pulling out the only argument he knew that would sway Yuuri.

“What do you mean?”

“If you will not flee, neither will they.”

Yuuri blinked in surprise. “That’s ridiculous. Of course they will go.”

“They have already informed me of the opposite,” Victor said. Yuuri frowned and looked ready to argue, his eyes darting to the door that led to the kitchens.

“We are only nine people, Yuuri. If you stay, the rest of the clan, not to mention everyone from your village, will be left without a healer. What if they are injured on their way south?” Victor could see Yuuri wavering. “I would never forgive myself if I let you stay and you or your family got hurt in any way.”

“They won’t be.”

“You don’t know that.”

Yuuri floundered for a response. “But I love you,” he said, his voice small and lost. Victor’s heart squeezed in his chest. He dropped a quick but fierce kiss on Yuuri’s lips.

“I love you, too,” he said, staring into Yuuri’s eyes, “That’s why you have to go. I can’t be worrying about you while I am trying to fend off the King. I need to know that you are safe and away from him.”

“And you? Will you be safe?”

Victor smiled. “I am reasonably tough, being a dragon lord and all.”

Yuuri didn’t smile back as he leaned up to kiss him.

 

* * *

After they said goodnight to Yuuri’s family and to Minako, they went back to their bedroom. Though they tried to stay awake, to make the most out of what little time they had left together, Yuuri was quick to fall asleep, worn out from the day, and Victor followed not long afterwards, holding Yuuri tightly to him under the covers, trying to memorize the shape of him in his arms.

The next day was a bustle of activity as every clan member rushed to pack what they didn’t want to lose. Every wagon in the clan was pulled from storage, dusted off, and loaded with valuables, food, trinkets, heirlooms. Yuuri’s fellow villagers, having only the clothes on their back, were dispersed among the clansmen to be taken care of, and to help with packing.

In the castle, it was organized chaos. All of Yuuri’s medicines and salves and equipment were meticulously packed into crates lined with wool. Victor’s study, with its centuries of clan records and battle plans, and correspondence with other clans, was carefully taken apart and packed on carts and wagons. Even the gilded carriage Victor used for official clan leader visits had been repurposed for hauling linens and ceremonial clothing.

Victor and Yuuri tried to stay out of the way, moving from room to room until finally, they made their way to the main hall where they sat on their chairs at the dining table. Victor held Makkachin in his lap, showering her in kisses and cuddles, knowing she would be confused when she left with Yuuri that night. Makkachin simply enjoyed all the attention being lavished on her, squirming and wriggling joyfully. In between belly rubs, Victor told Yuuri the plans he had made for afterwards, carefully phrasing it all to seem as hopeful as possible.

He knew that the odds were against him and he knew that Yuuri was aware of the fact as well. There was no telling if he would be able to hold off the King long enough for Yuuri to make it to safety, or if he would be able to escape after enough time had passed. They both ignored the other, more dire possibilities, not wanting the thought of them to spoil their last few hours.

Sara hovered around the castle, flitting from room to room, using her wings to keep herself at a height at which she could shout orders to the rest of the castle maids. Furiously, tirelessly, they packed and packed, until by sunset, the castle was a skeleton of its former self. Anything that had any importance had been stored away in a cart or tied to a horse, ready to be taken to safety. The rest of the clan’s houses had been similarly emptied. Their animals were grouped and tied and ready to travel, their crops picked or left to grow wild.

Since the early hours of the morning, Minako had been hard at work as well, preparing enough food to feed everyone about to leave. Even for her, it had been a monumental task, cooking for more than triple the usual number. But she managed to outdo herself.

Platters upon platters of courses, seven in all, were piled upon groaning tables and held by equally groaning clansmen, to be passed around and shared. Barrels of fortifying clan-made mead had been rolled out and opened, goblets of it passed around to calm frayed nerves and heal broken hearts. The clanspeople and the villagers dug into their food, hungry from a full day’s work, unsure of when they would be able to eat Minako’s cooking again.

Victor ate one-handed, the other gripping Yuuri’s hand under the table. Time was passing by too quickly and he wanted it to stop so he would never have to let go. But pass it did and before Victor knew it, before he could blink, it was time for them to depart.

Night had fallen and even with a dragon’s extraordinary vision, it would be difficult to make out the villagers and the clanspeople as they left. Victor had ordered them to travel silently and without light, to follow Yakov, who would lead the way south to safety. Slowly, the hall emptied of people as they went to their packed carts and picked up the reins on their horses and their animals.

“Good luck, Vitya.” Yakov gripped Victor firmly on the shoulder. He would be first to leave, followed by Yuri and Nikolai, and then everybody else. He looked like he wanted to say more, but nodded sharply instead and left, the ground crunching softly under his boots as he walked out the castle’s back door into the dark outdoors.

“Don’t die, alright?” Yuri said. He tried to sound angry but failed, his voice emerging tremulous and worried. Victor knew he was just now realizing that the lives of the hundreds of people traveling with them would be under his command. Nikolai shook Victor’s hand, then hugged Yuri’s shoulders as they walked together out the door to their horses. Beside Victor, Yuuri chuckled softly.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing,” Yuuri said, “He’s just such a prickly boy on the outside. Did you know he came to my workroom while I was packing my equipment and apologized for hitting me so hard that day?”

Victor raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“And very sincerely, too,” Yuuri said, nodding. Victor smiled. Yuri, it seemed, was growing up.

At last, it was just Yuuri and the Katsukis left. Hiroko and Toshiya both gave Victor tight hugs, whispering words of luck in his ear, and telling him they would see him soon. He wished he had their optimism. They moved on to Minako, repeating the gestures.

Mari shook Victor’s hand rather firmly, and wished him well before walking off to her horse, which had been saddled outside. Only Yuuri was left in the privacy of the empty hall. When he turned to Victor, his eyes weren’t wet, as Victor had thought they would be. But they burned with a fire that mesmerized him.

“This isn’t goodbye,” Yuuri insisted firmly, “I am simply taking a trip and I will be back home soon.” Victor smiled and nodded, knowing better than to argue. His dragon-half cowered slightly at the look in Yuuri’s eyes, at once devastated and furious, ready to take on the world. Victor touched the back of his fingers to Yuuri’s cheeks, memorizing their softness and their warmth. He would hold the memory close every night they were apart.

“I have to go,” Yuuri whispered, laying his hand over Victor’s trapping it against his face. Victor didn’t trust himself to speak and instead, leaned down for a kiss. It was long, lingering, filled with the things they couldn’t say, would never have enough time to put into words. All too soon, Yuuri broke their kiss with a gasp and stepped back, his fingers trembling as he touched his lips. They stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment before he turned and ran out the door. Victor felt his absence like a blow to the heart.

Only when the last sounds of their horses’ hooves had faded into the distance, did Victor stop staring out the back door. The castle had always been huge to Victor but it had never felt so empty. His lone footsteps echoed eerily as he walked across the hall. Just as he was about to open the door that led to the stairs, Minako stuck her head out of the kitchen door and called to him.

“Hey! Your Lordship!” Victor turned, not quite ready to speak to anyone, only to find that the rest of the soldiers were behind Minako, beckoning to him. His most loyal of troops, the ones who had stayed, wanted his attention and surely, he owed them that. He headed towards the kitchen door reluctantly and pushed it open. The aroma of finely aged wine, warm and heady, greeted him.

Amused despite himself, Victor chuckled. “What are you all doing?” he asked.

“What does it look like?” Minako raised her goblet, half empty already. “We’re taking in some liquid courage for when the King attacks.” She handed Victor a goblet filled to the brim with wine. It sloshed precariously and Victor took a quick sip to prevent it from spilling, licking his lips afterwards. This was from their best barrels of wine, the kind reserved for impressing visiting clan leaders.

“Aye, that’s the spirit!” Chris called from the far end of the large kitchen table they were all sitting around, before he tilted another mouthful down his throat. Victor sighed and sat at the chair at the head of the table, the one they had left for him. He could do with a little liquid courage, he thought.

“His Lordship left safely?” Mila asked him and he nodded, any semblance of a good mood evaporating at the thought of Yuuri.

“Don’t look so glum, my lord,” JJ said, rather loudly. He looked as if he had already had several cups of wine. “We will see our mates again soon.” He passed his cup to Minako who gladly filled it up again.

Chris nodded vigorously. “Mine even told me to stay. He says I’m too distracting to keep around and he still has to figure out how to work with that new dragon, Cao Bin.” He looked down into his goblet, swirling the wine around before taking another gulp. “If we hadn’t been bonded for almost half a century, I would be very jealous of how excited they get about metalworking.”

Victor chuckled but he couldn’t help feeling a sliver of guilt in separating Chris from his bondmate, or JJ from his. At least the others weren’t bonded, he thought, looking around the table at his small band of soldiers. Mila, Georgi, Leo, Chris, JJ, Mickey, Emil, Minako, and himself were all that made up their last defense against the King.

“Maybe after we defeat the King,” JJ mused, “I can be the next King.” His nose had turned red and his eyes were bleary.

“If you’re going to be King,” Georgi said, “then I want to be a prince so I can find a princess.”

“Does that mean you would be my son?”

Victor snorted into his goblet at the look on Georgi’s face and sat back, amused and distracted, as they argued over titles. He didn’t remember when he joined in, but soon, everyone at the table had their own titles and was shouting about how much more prestigious and powerful it was than the others’, Victor included.

The night dissolved into chaos as they opened a second barrel of wine, and then a third. Eventually, Victor found himself facedown on the kitchen table, a sticky pool of spilled wine under his cheek, and Emil’s loud snoring sawing in his ear. But he couldn’t bring himself to find a dry spot on the tabletop to lay his face on, much less go upstairs to his lonely bed.

He closed his eyes instead and thought about Yuuri. How far had they ridden that night? Yakov had said they would reach the other clan by dawn. Would they accept the letter he had written and sent with Yakov, detailing a plea for aid? He hoped his signet ring, the one he hardly ever wore, the one he’d placed on Yuuri’s finger, would be proof enough that the letter was genuine. He hoped Yuuri’s skills were enough to convince them to shelter him.

Victor drifted, confused thoughts jumbling with dreams in his mind; images and memories colliding until he wasn’t sure what was real anymore, and what just a wish. Like the taste of peppermint, cool and sweet; it took Victor a while to realize that he was simply remembering it from the candy Yuuri had given him. It had to be a memory then. But the sound of a cough from the other end of the table, so jarring and loud, that had to be real.

The feeling of a warm hand passing over his cheek, that had to be a dream. It caressed him lovingly, the smell of leather and metal and horses curled in his nose. And underneath it, the scent Victor dreamed of every night, that could only belong to Yuuri. Victor squeezed his eyes shut, the hallucination so vivid that he didn’t want to lose it, didn’t want to ever let it go.

In an instant, Victor’s eyes flew open and he lifted his head from the table, his cheek unsticking so quickly from the dried wine puddle he had been lying in that it felt as if he had lost a layer of skin. He looked around wildly. The early morning sunlight was drifting in through the windows, lighting upon the still-sleeping forms of his troops at the table, many in the same position Victor had just been in.

He ran a hand through his hair and settled back. It wasn’t Yuuri after all. He cursed to himself and shook his head, trying to clear it. Not even a few hours and he was already hallucinating about his mate. He needed to focus. There were reinforcements to be made, weapons and armor to be gathered and readied. He stood and stretched, feeling the popping of joints all along his shoulders and neck, before he turned.

And almost fell over.

“So this is what you do right after I leave?” Yuuri was leaning against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, watching with an amused expression as Victor awoke. Victor’s jaw dropped.

“Yuuri! What the hell are you doing here?”

“Troops from the Baranovskaya clan met us on the way,” Yuuri said, “They had word of what was coming and they were already on their way to offer assistance. Once they said they would escort us all to their village, I decided the clan and my family were in good hands, and I came back to help you.”

“You fool!” Victor thundered. But he was the fool. Even seething with anger at Yuuri’s rashness, he couldn’t help the thump of happiness he felt in his chest at the sight of him. He strode forward and grabbed Yuuri by the back of his neck, pulling him towards him for a savage kiss, translating his annoyance into the force of his attentions. Yuuri kissed him right back, hands fisting in his hair, matching him stroke for stroke, nip for nip, until a whistle from behind Victor broke them apart.

It was Chris and he, along with half the rest of the troops, were wide awake and avidly watching them kiss. Yuuri blushed as Victor growled at them, a pink tinge spreading across his cheeks. With a huff, Victor turned back to Yuuri, who was delicately smoothing down Victor’s hair. He knew he was a mess, but Yuuri didn’t seem to mind. Another quick kiss and Victor drew himself away, urgency forcing him to focus.

In no time, the rest of the soldiers were up and running to wash and change into their gear, to prepare for the King, if he came at all. They managed to build a stockpile of weapons by the main hall, the great dining table itself pushed against the front door to act as a barricade. And not a moment too soon. Just as they took their positions, they heard in the distance a growing rumbling like thunder, but louder, harsher, more murderous in its intention.

The King was here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Sorry for the delay (￣▽￣*)ゞ Christmas festivities made me completely forget what time it was.
> 
> Anyway!
> 
> I really like the drunk banter haha. I can just imagine everyone getting louder and more ridiculous until finally, Victor's standing on his chair yelling at the top of his lungs, "I'M THE ONLY REAL LORD HERE. I WIN." And everyone else tells him he doesn't count, so sit down and shut up while the grown-ups talk it out. Then they go back to arguing while Victor pouts into his wine before he smashes face-first into the table and passes out.


	12. Chapter 12

Yuuri awoke with a start to a firm knock on his door. The leather covering on the small, solitary window in the room was still dark around the edges, and Yuuri knew he had slept three, maybe four, hours. More than he had expected. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, shoulders aching as he sat up on the thin pallet on the floor, when the door opened and Guang Hong, his newest guard, poked his head through.

“He wants to see you, Your Lordship,” Guang Hong said. Yuuri nodded while yawning and putting on his boots. He had been too tired to change out of his clothes when he had gone to sleep and he realized now what a good idea it had been.

“He is not happy,” Guang Hong said hesitantly. Yuuri ran a hand over his tired face, rubbing at his temples as he did so.

“When has he ever been happy?” Yuuri muttered. Guang Hong gave a small, nervous chuckle before pushing aside the door to let him through. He didn’t bother attaching the heavy chain that hung from his belt to the shackles on Yuuri’s ankles. Yuuri had promised from the beginning that he wouldn’t try to escape, and he couldn’t break that promise. Otherwise, people he loved would get hurt.

He glanced at Phichit’s empty pallet a foot away from his as he passed it by. The blanket flung hastily to the side had not moved since he had last seen it. Phichit must have been assigned to overnight guard duty again. Yuuri knew that beneath his genial exterior, Phichit Chulanont, right-hand man to the King’s son, Otabek Altin, was one of the most skilled soldiers in the fortress they lived in. He had been assigned to keep watch over Yuuri when he had been brought here, and Yuuri couldn’t help but wonder if he had used all his luck in this one area.

Phichit was a beacon of light in the darkness of the King’s fortress. His spirit never faded, his optimism was buoyant and infectious, and he was distracting enough to keep Yuuri from dwelling too long on things he shouldn’t think about. Like his constant tiredness, courtesy of the King. Or the way his heart ached constantly, every throbbing beat turning his thoughts to Victor.

They hadn’t stood a chance against the King. In his heart of hearts, Yuuri had always known that they were vastly outnumbered; it would have been futile to run. But if he was able to offer himself up in a dire moment, in exchange for what he wanted, then that was the best he could have hoped for. He had not told Victor that, but it had been the real reason he had returned. The Baranovskaya army had simply been the excuse he’d needed to make it easier for Victor to swallow.

When he had finally, after a short and furious battle, been dragged from the kitchens where Minako had barricaded him in, he’d fought every step of the way, panicked eyes sweeping the scene. Surprisingly, there had been no casualties on either side. The King had ordered his men to subdue Victor’s troops, their fate dependent on Yuuri’s decision. A sword had been placed blade-first by each of their necks. Undaunted, they had all yelled for Yuuri to escape.

Even now, Yuuri could recall the desperation on Victor’s face as he struggled under the weight of four of the King’s soldiers, his arms pinned behind him, kneeling on the cold stone floor. He had been covered in bruises and cuts, his clothing ripped, his armor dented, but still he fought to reach Yuuri, to protect him. He hadn’t cared about the blade cutting into his neck or the rough hands holding him back, until a soldier decided he’d had enough and struck him against the temple with the hilt of his sword and he had collapsed sideways, a thin trickle of blood running down the side of his face.

It took four soldiers of his own to stop Yuuri from running to him. He had struggled furiously, anger settling in the pit of his stomach like a stone. But he had no chance against four dragon soldiers, so he had done the only thing he could: he negotiated. In the end, it was agreed that Victor and his men would be healed and spared. In return, Yuuri would leave voluntarily with the King, to be the North Mountain clan’s healer. If he ever stepped foot outside the fortress without the King’s express permission, even against his will, each and every inhabitant of Victor’s lands would be slaughtered.

Even disoriented and bloody when Yuuri was allowed near him, Victor had told him to run. But Yuuri couldn’t leave him like that, couldn’t abandon him to the King’s mercy. With a hand on his chest, Yuuri had healed him. He had wiped the moisture from Victor’s worried blue eyes, and kissed him one last time.

“Don’t do this,” Victor had begged against his mouth, his lips wet from a stray tear, “Don’t let him hurt you to save me.”

Yuuri had smiled rather humorlessly. It was either that or scream. “I heal, remember?”

And with a last caress of Victor’s cheek, now fully healed, Yuuri had left with the King, sitting in an iron cage they had brought for him, as they flew him back to the fortress. The ache in his heart had started at that moment and he had been glad to be sitting in a cage, where he could double over, breathless, and hold his shaking hands to his chest.

Even now, it never truly faded from his consciousness, a constant reminder of what he had left behind. He walked in front of Guang Hong along the familiar path that led from the bedchamber he shared with Phichit to a large drafty room that had been hastily converted into an infirmary. When he entered, the King turned to face him, a cold frown on his scarred face, a small group of soldiers beside him, looking sheepish and fearful.

“How long has it been, now?” the King asked without preamble. His voice, deceptively casual, echoed, bouncing off the walls, making the fine hairs on the back of Yuuri’s neck stand up.

“Four months, Your Majesty,” Yuuri replied quietly. In the beginning, he had tried to rebel, to keep his own spirits up by resisting. In return, he had been struck and beaten for every instance of insolence. He didn’t bother with bravado now. The payoff was never worth it.

“Four months and you still cannot meet the standards I have set for you.”

“I am afraid I do not understand.”

The King jerked his chin at one of the soldiers and he stepped forward, his eyes downcast as he presented his arm to Yuuri. Yuuri took it, glancing curiously along it, trying to determine what the King was angry about. He had just healed the soldier a few hours ago, one of the last things he had done before he had staggered back to his room, desperate for sleep.

“He has a scar,” the King said, his voice cold and accusatory. Yuuri found it then, a thin line from a sword wound, almost hidden along the inside of the soldier’s forearm. It was barely visible to the naked eye, only a few shades lighter than the surrounding skin. Yuuri held his thumb to it and called to his powers.

The healing wind that had accompanied him had become nothing but the faintest breeze. His energies had flagged in the four months he had been at the fortress, forced to push past his physical limits and worked ceaselessly until he was ragged. Even the bondmarks on his arms could barely be called into existence anymore. Yuuri forced himself through, turning the soldier’s arm this way and that afterwards to check for remnants of his wound.

When he found none, he let go and stepped back. The soldier nodded in thanks, his mouth twisting in embarrassment, eyes darting to the King.

“My apologies,” Yuuri said, bowing to the King, “It will not happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t,” the King said, “I did not bargain away a castle for a subpar Healer. If you can not hold up your end of the bargain, then the deal is moot and I will have no more use for you. Or for keeping Victor Nikiforov alive.” A wave of tingling swept over Yuuri, half fear that his powers would fail him, half anger at the King’s casual treatment of their agreement. The King swept from the room without a second glance, the group of soldiers following in his wake. The one Yuuri had healed mouthed a quick apology to him as he left.

Not a second later, Phichit stepped into the room carrying a tray of food, glancing behind him at the departing group.

“What happened?” he asked. His hair was in wild disarray, wet leaves and twigs plastered over his armor. Yuuri realized he had been on patrol outside and the strong mountain winds had covered him in wet debris.

“The King was angry at His Lordship,” Guang Hong said, a frown on his youthful face.

“What for?”

Yuuri sighed, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck, trying to ease the muscles there that had already started to tense up again. “I was not thorough enough and I left a scar.”

Phichit clicked his tongue. “You mean you were not rested enough,” he said, “Look at you. You’re almost dead on your feet.”

“I’m fine,” Yuuri said, rolling his shoulders and tilting his head back, eyes closed, stretching slowly, “I had a few hours of sleep.”

Phichit shook his head in exasperation and dismissed Guang Hong, taking over the duty of guarding Yuuri. They waited until Guang Hong’s footsteps had faded into the distance before they spoke.

“Any news?” Yuuri asked.

Phichit gave a short shake of his head. “Otabek only said to keep your eyes open and to let him know if you hear of any suspicions about his intentions.”

Yuuri nodded. “He needs to be cautious. The King is not convinced of his loyalty right now. A single misstep and he will never get his chance to overthrow him.”

Phichit tore a small loaf of bread in two, tossing one half to Yuuri and biting into the other. “I think he will be ready to act soon. He’s been getting more and more quiet with each day that passes. That usually means something is about to happen.”

Yuuri ripped a piece of bread from the soft white interior. “Do you ever wish he told you more about his plans?”

Phichit shook his head. “The less I know, the better.”

“But you’re his right-hand man.”

Phichit chuckled. “I don’t need to know his secrets to believe in his vision. If we were not working towards the same goal, I doubt we would even talk. He is a good man, but he is too quiet.”

Yuuri laughed. “You think everyone is too quiet.”

Phichit sighed forlornly. “All of these soldiers are essentially monks. No one ever wants to have fun.”

“Maybe when this is all over, they will change their minds?”

“They better,” Phichit said darkly, “I will make them.”

“You should visit us,” Yuuri said, inspiration striking him, “Our clan is a very rowdy bunch.”

Phichit paused mid-chew, blinking in surprise. “I would like that,” he said, a smile lighting up his face.

By the time they finished the rest of the food that Phichit had brought, the sun was beginning to rise and some of the King’s soldiers had arrived back at the fortress from another battle. Kenjiro Minami, a young boy who had been deemed too clumsy for fighting, had been assigned as Yuuri’s assistant in the infirmary. He was innocent and eager, much more cheerful than Yuuri had expected, and he seemed to hang on to Yuuri’s every word.

When the injured began to file in for healing, Kenjiro directed them to the stations they had set up, following Yuuri’s instructions to the letter. The soldiers were told to undress the area around their wounds, to clean them, with help from Kenjiro if needed, and then to report to Yuuri for healing. Yuuri recognized many of the faces. Some had been to see him every day since he had arrived and he was realizing that most of them, like him, were just trying to survive another day. Their eyes had lost the spark of dragon’s blood within them, their faces showed no emotion. Yuuri wondered how long he had before he became like them.

His healing was efficient and quick. He would touch a hand to whatever wound the soldier in front of him showed him, and with a will borne from survival instincts, he would conjure his powers and heal them. Over and over, the soldiers shuffled forward, stepping up one by one to to where he stood, and waited silently to be healed. Then they left immediately to prepare for another battle. Yuuri was simply part of the process for them, another objective to be obtained, just as they were for him.

He stopped only when the weak yellow sun had drifted its way across the sky, signaling that the afternoon had arrived, and the last of the morning’s soldiers were healed and gone. Kenjiro handed Yuuri the tray of luncheon that had been delivered some hours back and he ate mechanically, hardly tasting the food he was putting in his mouth. He noticed only distantly that what he was cutting with his knife was a cold piece of mutton, unseasoned and tough. He tried not to remember another castle, another piece of mutton.

“Your Lordship,” Kenjiro said hesitantly.

“What is it?”

“Your arms haven’t been glowing lately.”

Yuuri ate his last forkful of mutton, swallowing it down with a gulp of the watered-down wine on his tray before he pushed it away from him. “I know,” he said sadly.

“Is it because you are away from your bondmate?”

“I am not sure,” Yuuri replied, “I never learned much about bondmarks.” He studied his arm, trying to will them back into existence. For a moment, he thought he saw a faint blue shimmer on one forearm before it faded and he frowned. Did it mean something that he could no longer call to them? Had he been away from Victor for so long that their bond was weakening? At the thought, his heart panged, as if scolding him that it had been too long since he had last thought of Victor.

“Perhaps your lack of rest is the cause,” Kenjiro said hopefully as Yuuri’s silence stretched, “Your body does not have the energy to heal or show your marks like it used to.”

“That is possible, I suppose.”

“We finished the morning shift quite early today,” Kenjiro said, “Perhaps Your Lordship could sleep a bit before the night soldiers come back. I can keep watch over the infirmary.”

Yuuri smiled. “Thank you,” he said, “That would be very helpful.” Kenjiro practically beamed as he shooed Yuuri from the infirmary, promising to wake him when the soldiers came back. Yuuri walked back to his room and quietly opened the door. Phichit had long since fallen asleep, one foot sticking out of his thin blanket, both arms raised above his head.

Yuuri silently closed the door behind him and crept past Phichit to his own pallet. He toed off his boots and sank with a long sigh onto the thin bedding on the floor. It was nothing compared to the plush mattress he had slept on back home, but Yuuri wasn’t sure when he would ever feel that again. He pressed his hand to his heart and, as he had become accustomed to doing, told Victor goodnight and that he would see him again someday.

 

* * *

Not two hours later, Yuuri was healing the latest batch of troops that had returned from another battle. Soldier by soldier, he felt his energy draining. His eyes were weary and dry, too tired to function properly, and he felt ready to collapse. By the time the last soldier was healed and out the door, he wanted nothing more than to return to his pallet and collapse. Nothing would deter him, not a change of clothing, not food, not even water for his parched throat.

Then Guang Hong came to fetch him.

“His Majesty has a new prisoner he wants you to heal,” he said and Yuuri almost sobbed with frustration. He would die from exhaustion long before the King had a chance to kill him.

Yuuri let out a long, tired sigh and rubbed at his eyes. “Is he dangerous?” he asked, yawning so widely, his jaw cracked.

“No,” Guang Hong hesitated before continuing cryptically, “At least, not to you.” Confused, Yuuri followed the guard from the room, rubbing his shoulders with his hands as he walked. He had only been down the path they were on once before, when the King had brought in a soldier from another clan and ordered Yuuri to heal him. Yuuri had heard later that the King had kept the soldier in perfect health long enough to extract the information he wanted. Then the soldier had been killed. Yuuri had felt sick for days and he could only hope this latest prisoner would fare better.

Yuuri heard him before he saw him. An ear-splitting roar echoed down the stone hallway, the rage in the prisoner’s voice clear and unfettered. A blast of fire shot from the barred cell as they approached, and one of the King’s guards fell through the open cage door in an effort to escape. From inside the cell came shouts of “Hold him down!” and “Get back!”

Yuuri’s eyes widened in alarm, goosebumps raising on his arms. The prisoner the King wanted him to heal was capable of transforming into a dragon. He didn’t know how he would possibly be safe facing an injured and enraged dragon. Just then, another soldier was smashed against the bars of the cell, only to crumple to the floor, knocked unconscious by the dragon’s tail.

The dragon’s shining silver tail.

Yuuri ran the rest of the way, skidding to a halt just outside the cell door. He clung to the bars, his legs weak with relief, with happiness, with trepidation. It was Victor. He was injured, had been for hours, by the look of his wounds, but it was him and he was here, with Yuuri. Happiness coursed through him even as he cataloged the injuries on Victor’s hide, tracking every spot of dried, black blood, every tear and cut in Victor’s skin. As he thrashed, warding off the soldiers, barely healed cuts re-opened, sending trickles of new, bright red blood running down his sides.

“Victor?” Yuuri whispered. He could barely hear his own voice above the din in the cage. But Victor heard him nonetheless. His ears perked up and he lifted his head, his piercing blue gaze meeting Yuuri’s across the cage. His claw slashed out and shoved two more soldiers against the stone wall of the cell and in the next breath, he was scrabbling forward, his talons digging into the stone floor as he tried to reach Yuuri. Yuuri felt his heart thumping madly in his chest.

The thick black chains around Victor’s arms and legs held fast, taut against his straining muscles, groaning under the force of his pulling. Victor whined deep in his throat, the sound tearing through Yuuri’s chest and his muscles unlocked. He almost fell as he ran to him.

“Victor! Victor!” Yuuri repeated his name, desperate hands grabbing for Victor’s head, hugging his snout to his chest. Victor keened, the sound high and sad as he nudged Yuuri with his nose, his claws closing around him. Yuuri couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t feel enough of Victor’s smooth hide under his hands as he ran them over his jaw.

They were together again. He could finally see him, touch him, feel his heat. Yuuri heaved a sob, pressing his face against Victor’s. He hadn’t realize just much he had been suppressing his emotions until they all came pouring out of him. He clung to Victor, his limbs locking in place, trembling with the strength of his emotions. He didn’t know if he could ever let go again.

“I missed you so much,” Yuuri whispered, his voice breaking. Victor’s tongue poked out of his mouth and he licked the tears gently from Yuuri’s face, his deep purr telling Yuuri that he felt the same. Then suddenly Victor growled, the timbre of his voice echoing around the dungeon and in one smooth motion, had lifted Yuuri and set him bodily behind him, his teeth bared at the soldiers who were approaching them. His tail waved dangerously, ready to lash out and sparks were flying from his mouth, ready to turn into flames.

Yuuri took a step forward only for Victor’s claw to shoot out and hold him back. Instead he peered around Victor’s shoulder and shouted to the guards’ leader.

“What are the King’s plans for him?” he asked. His heart jumped in his throat, horrible scenarios playing out in his mind. He wasn’t sure how he would save Victor, but he would not let them be separated again, not if he had to kill the King himself.

The guard leader shook his head. “The King did not say, Your Lordship. He only ordered us to make sure you healed him.” Yuuri searched each of the guard’s faces but didn’t sense any falsehood. He didn’t know what the King was planning but he decided that just for a moment, he didn’t care.

“And after I heal him, he will stay here?” he asked. Victor had swallowed his flames but he was still alert, crouched and ready to attack. Yuuri ran his hand soothingly over Victor’s claw, itching to get him back to full health.

The guard leader nodded.

“Then I will stay here with him,” Yuuri said firmly. He did not care that there wasn’t even a pallet on the floor or walls to block them from the view of anyone passing by. He would not willingly leave Victor’s side again.

“Your Lordship—” Guang Hong started beseechingly, but stopped when Victor turned his attention to him. Yuuri knew the effect of Victor’s angry dragon’s gaze and took pity on Guang Hong.

“I will be fine,” he said calmly, leaning his cheek against Victor’s arm, still petting his claw, “Victor will take care of me.” Victor turned his head to huff lovingly into Yuuri’s hair.

Guang Hong nodded. “I will bring Your Lordship’s things down for you,” he said, waving away Yuuri’s surprised thank you, and beckoning the other guards to follow him from the dungeon. Though confused and reluctant, they followed, their eyes darting warily between Victor and the cell door, visibly uncomfortable until they had passed through to the other side. Two guards took up positions on either side of the dungeon entrance, far out of reach of Victor’s claws and flames.

Victor transformed into his human self and in no time, had Yuuri in his arms, mouth latched greedily, desperately to his. Yuuri didn’t care that Victor tasted like blood or that Victor’s mouth was so forceful that he would certainly be bruised. They kissed hotly, frantically, their hands tangled in each other’s hair, the shackles on Victor’s wrists clinking gently against the chains that swung from them. They kissed until they were breathless, groaning softly, with stars in their eyes.

“How are you here?” Yuuri asked when he could breathe again. He kept his voice low, not wanting the guards by the door to hear. He had his ear pressed against Victor’s chest and he could feel himself relaxing for the first time since he had arrived at the King’s fortress. Victor ran his hands along the length of his spine, caressing his back and kneading away the tense knots in his muscles. Yuuri couldn’t help but arch into his touch.

“Yuri brought me here to be the King’s prisoner.”

“What?” Yuuri’s mouth dropped open in shock. The bruises on Victor’s face, the cuts, the stab wounds. Had they all been from Yuri? He could not imagine Yuri, as surly and prickly as he was, injuring the lord of his clan and then sacrificing him like this. There had to be more going on, but he couldn’t think with the way Victor was running his thumb over Yuuri’s bottom lip, watching with such intensity that Yuuri tingled all over.

They were interrupted when the door to the prison opened and Guang Hong entered, carrying Yuuri’s sleeping pallet, neatly folded, with the few changes of clothing he had acquired since coming to the fortress. Behind him, to Yuuri’s surprise, came Kenjiro and Phichit, one carrying a bucket of steaming water, the other a stack of clean cloths. They waved away Yuuri’s gratitude and cheerfully shook Victor’s hand as they spread out what they had brought around the cell, making it more homey, before leaving again soon afterwards.

Yuuri set about helping Victor get clean. They did their best to push aside his armor and clothing, hindered by the shackles on his wrists and ankles. But eventually, Yuuri had managed to clean each injury with the hot water that had been brought in. When Yuuri finally laid his hands on Victor’s heart, he worried for a moment that he would not have the strength to heal him. But when he gingerly called upon his powers, the healing wind that had been gone for so long, rose like a typhoon, sending his clothes flying and his hair shooting upwards.

He let out a delighted laugh, warmth spreading through his body and pouring down his arms. The bondmarks flared fiercely to life, shining and bouncing off the walls and bars of the cell, until Yuuri had to close his eyes or be blinded by their joyful dance. Under his hands, he could feel Victor healing, and himself healing as well. The dark thoughts that had shadowed his heart slowly dissolved and the ache that had plagued him dissipated.

When he opened his eyes to find Victor smiling at him, once again whole and unblemished, he couldn’t help but grin back, filled with energy. With Victor’s health no longer on his mind, he wanted nothing more than to celebrate their reunion, to remember what it was like to truly be a dragon’s mate. He leaned forward and kissed Victor firmly on the lips, watching as his blue eyes widened in surprise, smiling when he felt Victor’s body immediately respond.

“The guards will hear,” Victor whispered when Yuuri broke the kiss to take a breath.

“I don’t care,” he replied. In fact, he wanted them to hear, to realize that he was very much Victor’s and Victor was his.

In a flash, his clothes were gone and he settled himself more firmly in Victor lap, pressing every inch of their bodies together. They had moved to the pallet after Victor was clean and it was close enough to where Victor’s chains were attached to the wall that his movements weren’t hampered. But Yuuri forced him to sit back against the wall as he straddled him and kissed him.

Their hands were everywhere, running through hair, gliding over sweat-dampened skin, touching and caressing and remembering. Victor reached between their bodies, wrapping his large hand around their cocks, and they both gasped in response. He squeezed and Yuuri threw his head back with a soft moan, giving Victor access to his neck and his nipples. Yuuri moved his hips back and forth, sliding his leaking cock in Victor’s grip, the friction of rubbing against Victor’s hard length sending shivers up his spine.

Victor sucked one of his peaked nipples into his mouth, nibbling at it with his teeth and Yuuri jolted, his hands fisting in Victor’s hair. He couldn’t take it anymore. He had been too long without Victor and he did not want to wait another second. He slid his cock from Victor’s fist and raised his hips, balancing himself against one of Victor’s muscled thighs, before lowering himself just until he could feel Victor’s hot tip grazing his entrance.

Victor’s hands gripped his waist, holding him up, the tension in his arms making them tremble.

“Wait,” Victor gasped, not looking away from where Yuuri was poised to join them together, “I haven’t prepared you.”

“I don’t care,” Yuuri said again. The liquid seeping from the tip of Victor’s cock was enough and he took a precious few seconds to rub it against himself before, with a breath and eyes squeezed shut, he sat down on Victor’s cock, hard. He pushed until Victor was fully inside him, his neck muscles straining as he threw his head back, teeth gritted in a snarl of pleasure.

Yuuri was on fire. It had been four months since he had last taken Victor and the sudden stretch to fit him was too much, too soon. But the feeling of Victor fully inside him was something he had missed every day since and he relished the burn of it. The pain reminded him that he was alive, that Victor was alive, and that they were together again. Slowly, it ebbed, his healing powers at work, and the pleasure of being so full he could hardly breathe took over.

Together, they started a fast, furious rhythm, until the soft sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echoed repeatedly around the cell. Yuuri knew the guards could hear and though his cheeks heated with embarrassed, he wasn’t ashamed of his feelings for Victor, or of Victor’s for him. He moaned as Victor ground into him, his own cock rubbing against Victor’s stiff stomach, the dual sensations sending a spasm through his body.

Victor pushed on his hips, holding him down as he flexed, thrusting up from the ground. Yuuri cried out softly, wrapping his arms around Victor’s shoulders. He held on as Victor increased the forcefulness of his movements, until he was pounding into Yuuri, every stroke dragging against the spot deep inside him that made him lose control. He pressed himself closer, clinging for dear life, whimpers bursting from his mouth, biting his lower lip to hold them in.

Victor grabbed him roughly by the chin and just before he kissed him, Yuuri could see how dark, how stormy passion had made his eyes. Victor was relentless, his cock laying claim to Yuuri, his tongue doing the same. Sensation swirled higher and higher in his belly and his thighs tightened, pressure building until he broke, and Victor swallowed his wail with another deep kiss.

Yuuri moaned against his mouth, his fingers digging into Victor’s back, insides clenching against Victor’s cock. Hot jets of come spurted from him, landing on Victor’s stomach and dripping slowly back down his abdomen. Yuuri’s hips jerked endlessly as he came, tears falling freely from his eyes as each wave of ecstasy brought on another. Distantly, Yuuri heard Victor’s deep groan as he climaxed, the sudden hot flood of his seed inside Yuuri sending him spiraling into another plane of pleasure. It seemed like hours before his vision finally cleared.

Victor laid them down on the pallet and pulled the thin blanket over them, settling Yuuri into the crook of his arm, his hand idly brushing Yuuri’s hair. Yuuri patted around before his hand found one of the discarded towels and he used it to wipe off Victor and then himself before he settled down fully. He didn’t want to close his eyes, didn’t want the possibility of waking up to find that it had all been a dream. He knew he was being silly, but Victor’s expression with his brows furrowed and eyes filled with worry, told him he felt the same.

“Don’t let me go,” Yuuri murmured and Victor nodded, wrapping his arm around him tightly. Yuuri clung to his back, breathing in the familiar, comforting scent of his mate. And for the first time in what felt like forever, he fell asleep with a smile on his lips and a light heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!
> 
> (Holiday festivities distracted me again sorry (o-_-o)
> 
> Some of you might be wondering why I didn't write out the fight scene between Victor and the King haha. I felt that it didn't need that much exposition so I put it in a memory instead.


	13. Chapter 13

One day, Victor promised himself, he would write a book dedicated to Yuuri’s ears. The world needed to know how it could turn a soft shade of pink and cream under the morning sun, how it glowed golden in firelight. He wanted to map every sweet curve, every soft dip in the shape of his ear for generations to come. He wanted to taste it, to lick his way along the plump earlobes, trace his tongue along the delicate rim, until he knew all of its secrets, until—

“Victor?”

“Hmm?” Perhaps he would write a second volume about Yuuri’s voice. He had missed that soft timbre so unique to Yuuri, the low musicality that haunted his dreams, the—

“What did you mean when you said you were brought here as a prisoner?”

_ Ah. _ Victor pulled the thin blanket higher, tucking it neatly under Yuuri’s chin. He had been expecting Yuuri to ask but he had hoped for more time to think of an answer.

“I mean exactly that,” he said, “Yuri has decided, given my behavior in the last four months, that I am unfit to be a lord and he has ousted me from my position. In order to curry favor with the King, he had me beaten and tied up so he could deliver me here as an offering.”

Yuuri sat up, throwing off Victor’s arm, his mouth open in shock as he stared at him. Victor smiled and tugged him back down with a soothing pat on his back. It was humbling how ready Yuuri was to fight for his honor.

“At least, that is the story we are telling,” Victor said, “In truth, I am not certain of the plan, but Yuri told me Otabek will be using me as a distraction when he kills the King.”

Yuuri blinked at the sudden shift in Victor’s words and laid his head back down on Victor’s arm.

“I’m glad it is all a ruse,” Yuuri said with a relieved smile that made Victor grimace with guilt.

“Not entirely,” he said reluctantly. Then, at Yuuri’s curious look, “The first part—when Yuri decided I was unfit to be a lord—that part was true. After the King took you…I just stopped.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I did npt fulfill my duties to the clan or to your villagers,” Victor explained, “After Mila sent Emil and Mickey to call everyone back from the Baranovskaya clan, I told Yakov to take care of things because I couldn’t.”

“Did he?” A crease had appeared between Yuuri’s eyebrows and Victor wanted to kiss it away.

“Oh, yes. Yakov managed perfectly. He brought Yuri in to have him make some lordly decisions. They had cottages and farms built for the villagers and everyone seems to have found a place with the clan now.”

“And you?”

Victor smiled ruefully. “I stayed in our bedroom and thought about you.”

Yuuri’s eyes had grown sad. “Victor…” he murmured.

“I know,” Victor said with a twist of his lips, “I think, given more time, I would have come to my senses.” He paused thinking. “Maybe.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Not yet, no,” Victor agreed, “It took me a while to realize that you had known what would happen all along, so you were prepared for the inevitability of leaving with the King. But I…I really thought I was saving you.”

Yuuri laid his hand against Victor’s cheek and he tilted into it, nuzzling Yuuri’s warm palm, pressing a featherlight kiss against the heel.

“I think I broke when you left,” he confessed simply, avoiding Yuuri’s eyes. He focused instead on Yuuri’s chin, tracing the shape of it with his gaze. It hurt to re-open the wounds on his heart, to relive how he had felt, the hopelessness that had consumed him. “I never felt as powerless as I did then. I couldn’t protect my clan from the King. I couldn’t even protect myself. But the worst thing of all was that I couldn’t protect you.”

“It’s not your fault,” Yuuri whispered fiercely, his eyes glinted in the light from the wall torches and Victor was strangely comforted by how angry he sounded. Yuuri pressed both his hands against Victor’s cheeks, holding him in place as he stared sternly into his eyes. “I will never blame you. You were standing alone against the most powerful dragon in the land and his entire army. There was nothing you could have done without dying.”

Victor smiled. Logically, he knew it had been a farfetched hope, a ridiculous wish, to think that he could so easily thwart the King. He knew that to be alive at all was a feat beyond imagining, but to hear Yuuri say that he bore no ill will still felt like benediction. A lightness filled his chest, dissolving the dark mass that had so weighed on him for months. He couldn’t help but close his eyes, squeezing them against the tumultuous riot this abrupt overhauling of his feelings was wreaking on him.

He felt Yuuri press a kiss to his nose and he scrunched it as Yuuri chuckled.

“Tell me about Yuri beating you up,” he said, and Victor opened his eyes again with a rueful sigh.

“He came to see me—broke down the door to my study, in fact—to tell me that he needed me to go with him to see the King.”

“He broke down the door?”

“I refused to meet with him,” Victor said, “I think a part of me blamed him for not stopping you.”

Yuuri nodded in understanding. “I only told Mari when I left the clan in the hands of the Baranovskaya troops. Someone stopping me was exactly what I wanted to avoid.”

“That’s what he yelled at me,” Victor said, chuckling, “right before calling me all sorts of terrible names and insulting my manhood and my lordly skills. Then he told me he had been in contact with Otabek Altin the entire time. He has a pet falcon that he sends to bring messages to Yuri.”

“Kazakh,” then at Victor’s quizzical look, “The falcon’s name is Kazakh.”

“Right, yes. Well, Otabek and Yuri had been sending Kazakh back and forth and Yuri neglected to tell me that he would send reports about you. He said they would only make me more upset.”

“Would they?”

“Of course.” Victor said indignantly with a sniff. “But I would still want to read them.” Yuuri pressed a quick kiss to his forehead and comfort spread through Victor like a hot wave as he continued.

“Yuri said Otabek had hatched a plan and needed us to go to the King to deliver me as a prisoner. Did you know the King has a barbaric tradition of forcing his prisoners to battle each other as entertainment while he eats his dinner?”

Yuuri nodded. “I have never seen it because I am not allowed in his dining room, but the soldiers have told me about it.”

“Do you heal the prisoners?”

Yuuri shook his head. “The King would never want me to waste my powers on a prisoner, not when he forces them to fight to the death.”

“Good,” Victor said, “I would not want you to be exposed to that kind of violence.”

“Does this mean you will be forced to fight?” Yuuri asked after a horrified pause, his face blanching white. Victor rushed to assuage him.

“Yes, but it will not be for long,” he said, nowhere near as confident as he sounded, “Otabek plans to slay the King while he is distracted by the fight.”

“That is his plan?” Yuuri sounded skeptical and Victor felt the same.

“It is not a very solid plan,” Victor agreed, “but it has merit. The King is always very involved in the fights and he will be even more so if I am one of the fighters. Otabek thinks he will have the best chance to kill him then.”

Yuuri frowned, worry marring his perfect face.

“Of course, I told Yuri that Otabek’s plan was hopeless but that I would go alone if he really thought there was a chance for it to work.”

“I take it Yuri did not react well?”

Victor grimaced. “We argued for over an hour before he pretended to give in. Then he waited until I was asleep that night and brought in a few of the clansmen who pinned me down and, when I tried to fight them, subdued me enough to bind me in ropes.”

“Who were they?”

“I am not certain, but I think one of them was Chris. He went straight for the face.” Victor rubbed a hand on his chin, remembering the blow that had snapped his head back into the headboard. He frowned at Yuuri as he chuckled.

“By the time I was lucid enough to say anything, I was already airborne, being carried like a trussed pig in Yuri’s claws,” Victor continued, “It was clear I was the only person opposed to the plan—even Nikolai came outside to see Yuri off—so I didn’t fight any more as I was carried here.”

“How did the King react?”

Victor thought back. “He was…pleased,” he said slowly, “Very pleased. He took Yuri somewhere to talk to him and tossed me to his guards to beat up more and then chain to the wall here in the dungeon.”

Yuuri was quiet as he thought, his fingers drumming against Victor’s chest. The slow rhythm distracted him from his task in a few hours. He couldn’t be sure what kind of prisoner the King would pit him against, but given his immense displeasure with Victor, he couldn’t afford to let his guard down. He knew he was strong and being able to fully transform gave him powers that would put him at an advantage. But against a seasoned prisoner who had fought in front of the King before, victory was not assured.

“This seems all too easy,” Yuuri said.

“What do you mean?”

“I think the King has something up his sleeve. Otabek thinks the King has suspicions regarding his intentions. He’s been having Otabek watched and his movements reported back to him. I don’t think this plan is going to play out the way we hope.”

But before Victor could reply that he felt the same, the door to the dungeon opened, light flooding the pathway that led to his cell. The sound of many steel-covered boots striking against the stone floor echoed through the dungeon. In a flash, Victor threw off the blanket that covered them and sat up, positioning himself in front of Yuuri in a defensive crouch. He knew the chains attached to his wrists and ankles would hinder him, but he would do what he could to protect Yuuri from this new threat.

A contingent of guards marched into view, in the midst of them strolled the King himself. He stopped outside Victor’s cell, his gaze sweeping the scene, taking in their state of undress, Victor’s position, and all of Yuuri’s sparse belongings piled neatly in a corner. Victor felt Yuuri shift nervously behind him. He knew Yuuri was uncomfortable with the King seeing him in such a vulnerable state and he moved closer, blocking more of him from the King’s view.

“The guards will escort you to the dining hall when you are dressed,” the King said dismissively before he turned and walked from the dungeon. Victor saw the brief smile that flashed over his face and a shiver ran down his spine. Without a word, Yuuri hastily put his clothing on while Victor adjusted his, trying his best to keep the torn and stained clothing in place.

One of the guards entered the cell and unlocked the chains attached to Victor’s shackles. Victor didn’t fight when they marched him and Yuuri from the cell, their arms firmly held in place behind their backs. He knew that if he tried, they would be on him in a second and Yuuri would be hurt in the process trying to protect him. So he stayed docile and quiet as they walked him from the dungeon, down long, unadorned hallways and through a set of heavy wooden doors reinforced with thick beams of forged iron.

Long wooden tables lined three of the walls in the dining hall, with benches along their outer edges so the people who sat there could face inwards as they ate. The fourth wall opposite where Victor and Yuuri had entered displayed the King’s table, raised impressively on a high platform, so high that the eyes of the people at the other tables were level with the King’s feet when they sat.

In the middle of the room, free of any adornments or decorations, spotted here and there by large patches of what Victor assumed was dried and faded blood, had to be the arena upon which the King’s chosen fighters would entertain him. Victor saw this all in one sweep of the room before he focused his attention back to the head table. In the middle sat the King himself with Otabek seated to one side and Yuri to the other. Large dented shields emblazoned with the King’s crest lined the walls behind them, the effect all at once foreboding and dour.

Victor bared his teeth at Yuri and growled. Regardless of what Yuuri said, he had to keep up the pretense.

“Traitor,” he snarled. Yuri lifted his chin as a condescending sneer painted itself across his face. Beside him, the King chuckled and clapped his hand heavily against Yuri’s back. Though he tried not to look affected and his expression didn’t change, Victor saw the slight twitch in Yuri’s eyelid at the impact.

“Your heir here has told me all about you, Victor, and how pathetic you have become,” the King said, his voice dripping with scorn, the sound grating on Victor, filling him with loathing, “It is a pity, really. I used to hear about how strong you were and how your armies would defend your people with such bravery. I wanted you to join me, then. But look at you now, brought to your knees by a mere human, so weak and powerless.”

“But Yuri is strong,” the King continued, “He has already agreed to hand your clan over to me if he gains a place in my army. We will take over the rest of dragonkind together and establish a new, more powerful species.”

Yuri looked more and more uncomfortable as the King went on. His posture grew stiffer, shoulders pulling back until he looked as rigid as the guards stationed around the room. His eyes darted to Victor, to Yuuri, to anyone he could anchor his sight on. Victor wondered if Yuri would make it through the plan. If it went the way they hoped, he would be right next to the King as Otabek killed him. Victor could only pray that Yuri’s pride would prevent him from spoiling it.

“I will allow you the chance to die an honorable death,” the King said, his gravelly voice oozing with benevolence. Victor felt Yuuri jerk in shock next to him and he pressed their shoulders together in comfort.

“You are too kind,” Victor drawled.

The King smiled and Victor felt that same sense of dread from earlier drip down his spine, leaving behind a cold, wary path.

“Fear not, dear Victor. You shall not die alone. I have decided to change the rules of the evening just for you and your mate.” Every bone in Victor’s body warned him that the new rules would be even worse but he had no choice but to follow them.

“I have never allowed your mate to heal my prisoners, even when I am particularly fond of one.” The King nodded at Yuuri. “But as you are bonded, your fates are tied together and therefore, your fights must be as well.” The King stretched out a hand, palm facing upwards and a guard stepped forward, placing a tightly coiled whip into the King’s hand. He examined it closely and nodded, handing it back to the guard. He looked directly into Victor’s eyes, his gaze piercing and cold.

“For every wound you obtain during your fight, your mate will be whipped in kind,” the King said casually, almost dismissively, the satisfaction in his voice clear.

Victor felt his face drain of color. Beside him, Yuuri had turned to stone, his breaths shallow with fear. Victor could feel the panicked beating of his heart in his chest.

“I will allow your mate to heal you in between fights,” the King said, “However, if he chooses to do so, then he cannot heal himself. If he tries, you will both be killed immediately.”

It was a diabolical plan and the more Victor thought about it, the more traps he saw laid out waiting for them. Though Victor could and would refuse healing, eventually he would be so injured that Yuuri would have no choice but to heal him. Each healing would sap some of Yuuri’s energy until in the end, Yuuri would be depleted and they would both be killed. And if Otabek failed in his task, Victor wasn’t sure how long they would manage to keep going, not when he knew the amount of concentration it took Yuuri to keep from healing himself automatically.

Beside the King, Otabek was frowning but he didn’t speak or even look at him or at Yuuri. He seemed deep in thought and Victor sincerely hoped he was figuring out how soon the King would be distracted. On the other side of the King, Yuri looked made of marble, his face white as a sheet and frozen in its look of dismayed surprise. Victor shot him a glare and he blinked rapidly before rearranging his features into a look of scorn.

The King dismissed the guards with a jerk of his head and turned to address a comment to Yuri. Yuri threw Victor one last glance, his gaze filled with apprehension and warning, before turning his attention back to the King as he spoke. Though the King towered over him, even while sitting, Yuri managed to look indifferent, and Victor breathed a sigh of relief.

The guards surrounding him and Yuuri led them towards a door in the side of the dining hall. Yuuri was silent as they walked and Victor could only imagine how he felt right now, doomed to pain and to that terrible choice between whom to heal. Not that Victor intended for him to ever have to choose. He would do his best to avoid any injury but if he didn’t, he could only hope he would have the strength to refuse Yuuri’s healing.

Would this always be his fate, Victor wondered glumly as he walked, to be the cause of Yuuri’s injuries? His dragon-half grumbled in frustration and he shushed him, wanting to conserve his strength for later. They were led to a small, windowless room lit by a single torch stuck haphazardly into a wall sconce. A guard tossed two folded articles of clothing to Victor, who caught them reflexively with his hand.

“What is this?” he asked as he unfolded one into a black square of fabric with a string on each side.

“The traditional loincloth the prisoners wear when they fight to entertain the King,” the guard replied before he closed the door to let them change.

“So no armor for you, then,” Yuuri said sadly as they undressed and tied the loincloths on, “I didn’t expect that he would allow it, but I had hoped you would have some more protection.” Victor could see his fingers shaking as he tried to tie the loincloth strings. He gently pushed Yuuri’s hands aside and tied it together for him. Yuuri turned and hugged him tightly.

“Hold on until Otabek can make his move,” Victor murmured into Yuuri’s hair as he wrapped his arms around him, “I will try not to get hurt.” He felt Yuuri nod against his chest and he pressed a kiss to the top of his head. He wouldn’t let this be the end. After all they had been through, he wouldn’t let the King take it away from them now.

The door opened again and they broke apart, Victor leading the way as they walked back to the dining hall. The tables were all filled now, the hum of chatter among the soldiers who had been given the privilege of eating with the King that night filling the room. They glanced curiously at Victor as he strolled out and then moved to the center of the room, where a guard had directed him. Yuuri was taken to stand facing the King’s table, his back to Victor.

“Remember, Healer,” the King said, his voice loud enough for Victor to hear even over the din of the soldiers. Victor could practically hear the purr in the King’s voice and he bared his teeth, bristling with anger. “If you try to heal both yourself and your mate, you will die. If your mate decides to transform, you will die. If you move from your position when I have not excused you, you will die.”

Victor watched Yuuri nod and noticed suddenly how very small he looked, standing alone at the top of the room. Yuuri widened his stance, planting his bare feet firmly on the stone floor, shoulders back and chin high. Victor felt a bolt of pride run through him at Yuuri’s courage and he vowed to be worthy of it, to keep that strong, proud back upright and unmarked.

The double doors opened then and Victor turned to it, to see who had been brought to fight him. Guards appeared, leading a very ordinary, somewhat dirty and ragged man, who wasn’t wearing the black loincloth that Victor wore. Confused, Victor looked him up and down before cautiously sniffing the air as the man was walked towards him. He smelled…human. Fully human, without a drop of dragon blood in him.

Victor straightened from the defensive crouch he had been in, brows furrowed. But he didn’t have long to think. The guards stepped back and immediately, the man pulled a short blade from his belt and rushed at Victor, slashing and hacking in a frenzy. Victor jumped backwards and dodged his movements, the soldiers shouting at the sudden burst of activity. The man was sloppy, untrained, desperate, and Victor couldn’t figure out what had caused this fervor.

He dodged another slash and, seeing his chance, grabbed the man around his wrist and twisted. The knife dropped harmlessly to the floor, clinking gently as it bounced once and stopped. Frustrated, the man struggled to pull his wrist back from Victor’s grip but he was no match for a full-blooded dragon. His panic was clear and Victor was struck with a thought.

“What were you promised?” he asked. The man didn’t answer and only struggled harder. Victor grabbed his chin with his other hand, his fingers digging into the man’s cheeks, forcing him to make eye contact. “Answer me!”

“Freedom!” the prisoner spat, “If we draw blood, we gain our freedom.” Stunned, Victor let go of the man and stepped back, thinking hard. It was a barbaric game the King was playing. He knew Victor would be reluctant to hurt another prisoner, even more so when they were human and at a greater disadvantage. But promising them their freedom for the simple cost of wounding Victor was to guarantee full and eager participation.

The man’s other hand flew to his belt and Victor jumped back. Too late. The man had grabbed another blade and slashed it across Victor’s chest. They both watched as a thin red line formed, a single drop of blood welling at one end.

“First blood!” a soldier shouted gleefully. Victor spun around in horror just in time to see the black whip slash through the air and land with a sickening crack across Yuuri’s back. He jolted forward from the force and an angry red welt, the skin already starting to break, formed stark and jarring against his perfect skin. Victor could not see his face but he knew that Yuuri had held his expression of stoicism.

The thought of Yuuri gritting his teeth and bearing the pain without even a wince infuriated him. His dragon-half was clawing at him, roaring to be let loose and he turned back to the prisoner, teeth bared in a snarl. In one smooth motion, he picked up the prisoner by the front of his shirt with one hand and threw him bodily towards the door. The prisoner slammed into the wall with a thud and slid to the floor, unconscious. Without bothering to wait and see if he would get up again, Victor turned and lunged for the King, rage coloring his vision red.

He would kill that bastard with his own two hands for daring to lay a hand on Yuuri. His dragon-half wanted the taste of blood and he was in perfect agreement. Guards jumped in front of him and he managed to knock two of them to the side before he was overwhelmed by numbers. He didn’t know if wounds incurred from the guards weapons would mean more pain for Yuuri but he could see by the smirk on the King’s face that they would. The warning washed over him like ice and he stopped struggling.

“I will kill you,” Victor promised the King and himself. Not yet, not right now, but he would. Once Yuuri was out of his hands, he would take whatever weapon Otabek had planned to use, and kill the King himself. With a last growl, he threw off the guards who had stopped him and turned back to the double doors, where another human prisoner was being escorted inside. He didn’t approach Yuuri. The slash on his chest was artificial and even without Yuuri’s powers, it was mostly healed already. He wanted that mark on Yuuri’s back gone.

The latest prisoner’s feverish, greedy gaze confirmed Victor’s suspicion that the King’s offer had been made to all being brought in to fight him. He readied himself for more weapons and wasn’t surprised when the prisoner pulled out a small knife. Without waiting for the prisoner to make a move, Victor lunged.

 

* * *

The next half-dozen prisoners were dispatched easily. Only one managed to cut him shallowly on his forearm as he threw him towards the wall, which led to another sickening lash of the whip against Yuuri’s back. Victor watched, silently making sure the wound healed completely before turning back to the room. He wasn’t tired, not exactly, but the adrenaline of fighting was ebbing, leaving only cold, slow rage. With the low caliber and lack of skill among the human prisoners that had been brought to him, he was slowly growing complacent, a dangerous frame of mind to be in.

At this rate, he would be fighting for a very long time, and it would be numbingly repetitive. Though he was glad that the fighting was easy and that he could keep Yuuri safe, his dragon-half was pacing inside him. He wanted a real fight; he wanted to release the fury he felt towards the King. He wanted it to end before he exploded from the anticipation.

Evidently, the King thought the same. He stood and, with a hand, quelled the murmuring of the bored soldiers. Victor turned to look, after another slow examination of Yuuri’s back, now healed from his latest wound.

“It seems Victor has been properly warmed up, wouldn’t you say?” the King mused out loud. His soldiers shouted in agreement, some waving their goblets and letting wine spill onto their tables. “Then let us begin the true show of the evening.” The soldiers cheered.

“As I am sure some of you know, it is traditional for a dragon to slay the King before he can take his throne. But I have no intention of allowing any to slay me.” The King chuckled at the thought and his soldiers laughed along with him. Victor felt a knot of nerves form in his stomach at the King’s confidence. “I know my son has thought many times about taking my throne.”

A cold finger of dread ran down Victor’s spine and from the arrested expression on Yuri’s face, he knew he wasn’t alone. Had the King discovered their plan after all? He had sounded entirely too knowledgeable.

“I am glad of my son’s ambitions,” the King continued, “and as a reward for his aspirations, I will give him the chance to prove himself. If he defeats Victor Nikiforov tonight, the Nikiforov clan, including all of its land and people, will be his.”

The King clapped a hand onto Otabek’s shoulder as he looked down at him. “What say you?” he asked. Otabek was silent as he looked back at the King for a measured moment, then across the hall at Victor. Victor did not know Otabek well enough to read the fleeting emotions in his eyes, did not know if he could trust that he would be unmoved by greed, by the promise of power. He had said he wanted peace, but that had been a long time ago and sentiments, loyalties, had ample time to change.

Otabek nodded once and stood, already methodically disrobing. A guard handed him a black loincloth.

“Agreed,” he said, his voice a quiet dart that struck Victor like a blow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!
> 
> You might be wondering: "why do they need to wear battle loincloths?"  
> The answer is: "because"
> 
> Only one more chapter to go!! Σ(°ロ°)


	14. Chapter 14

Yuuri watched in horror as Otabek stripped off his clothing, folding it neatly into a pile that he left on his chair. He tied on the ceremonial black loincloth with precise movements and walked around the head table, down the platform stairs to the arena behind Yuuri’s back. He studiously avoided Yuuri’s eyes as he passed, his face expressionless and calm.

The King watched him go with immense satisfaction. It practically oozed from him in waves and Yuuri shrank from it, from the implication that if he had known of Otabek’s plan, he had managed to thwart it with the simple dangling of a carrot. Beside the King, Yuri’s face had turned positively green but he didn’t look nearly as shocked as Yuuri felt.

Yuri caught his eye and with a quick glance at the King beside him, shifted his coat so that Yuuri saw a glint of steel. He realized then that Otabek and Yuri had known, had planned for this outcome. If Otabek should be taken from his task, it would fall on Yuri to slay the King. Yuuri’s heart lurched in his chest at the thought of it. Yuri was so young, so untrained. Would he be able to slay one as powerful as the King? Could he?

Roars and shouts from the soldiers in the hall rang through the air and Yuuri realized that Otabek and Victor were facing each other now, about to begin their fight. He wished he could watch, could find out for himself Victor’s fate. He knew the prisoners Victor had faced would not have tired him much, but Otabek was fresh and rested and Victor had been roughed up and beaten twice, flown up a mountain, and was lacking sleep.

Yuuri concentrated, listening to the shouts from the soldiers, the excited chatter as the fight began. He tried to discern from their words and their loud betting how Victor fared. He knew Otabek was an extremely skilled fighter, trained in the King’s army, and while Victor was skilled as well, he would be hindered by his uncertainty in the change in plans. Yuuri knew that Otabek would feel no such need to hold back, not when keeping the King distracted was his primary objective.

A cheer erupted from the soldiers and they pounded their goblets on the tables in glee. Yuuri tried to brace himself but before he could, the whip lashed across his shoulder blades. It cut into his back like a shard of fire: sharp, piercing, burning. He arched involuntarily, eyes watering, before he clenched his fists and forced himself not to move. He bit the inside of his lip until he tasted blood, letting the hot iron liquid seep against his tongue. The familiar flavor grounded him.

Another cheer, another attempt to brace himself against a second lash. It cut across the broken skin from the first lash and he couldn’t stop the strangled gasp that burst from his mouth. He almost fell from the force of the blow, his sight momentarily clouded by darkness. From pure strength of will alone, he stayed standing on shaky legs, a cold sweat dotting his skin as he kept his knees locked.

Yuuri didn’t dare try to heal himself, not when he couldn’t see the extent of Victor’s injuries. He would never forgive himself if he put his own comfort ahead of Victor’s life. The fight continued behind him and he wanted desperately to turn his head, to watch over Victor. He needed his own distraction, he thought wildly, and his eyes landed on the King.

He sat relaxed on his chair, his gaze avidly focused on the battle before him. There was a look of dark amusement on his face and Yuuri could only wonder at his thoughts. The smile on his lips unnerved Yuuri, made the wounds on his back throb in protest as he tensed. He couldn’t keep his eyes on the King anymore without screaming.

He shifted his attention instead to Yuri, who was looking more and more nervous as the minutes passed by. His eyes darted back and forth between the fight and the King. Though his expression was calm, his constant fidgeting with his utensils, his goblet of wine, anything he could touch, betrayed him. Yuuri worried the King would notice but he seemed absorbed in watching Victor and Otabek.

The King lifted his goblet for a drink and just for a second, torchlight bounced off the rim of it, the glare blinding Yuuri. In the next instant, Yuri was on his feet, his chair toppling behind him as he pulled his short sword from his belt, the sound it made echoing loudly in Yuuri’s ears. The thought that it had alerted the entire fortress flitted through his mind. There was the slightest pause as Yuri froze, doubts darkening his face, before he swung his sword at the King’s exposed throat.

But he was too slow, his moment of hesitation all that the King needed to react. He caught Yuri’s wrist as he swung, his enormous hand wrapping entirely around his wrist and hand, and twisted. There was a sickening crack, the sound jerking through Yuuri like a blow, and Yuri screamed, his short sword falling uselessly to the stone floor. Behind him, Yuuri heard the pause in the fight, felt the confusion of the soldiers, their distraction, and it sent a cold wave of dread down his spine.

Too fast for Yuuri’s eyes to follow, the King wrapped a hand around Yuri’s neck, raising him in the air in front of him, squeezing so hard that Yuuri could see the skin on Yuri’s throat folding in on itself. Yuri clawed desperately at the King’s arm with his good hand, the other hanging limp and useless against his side. He was choking, panicking, his face growing red with the need for air.

“I could smell your fear,” the King sneered at him, his voice dripping with cruel laughter, “Your pathetic plan was clear to me the minute you arrived with your ridiculous story about surrendering Victor.”

Desperately, Yuuri glanced around, trying to find something, anything, that would help. Where was Otabek? Where was Victor? Could they get to Yuri in time?

“Haven’t you weak fools learned by now?” the King laughed, his booming voice echoing up to the rafters, “No dragon can kill me.”

Yuri’s hand stilled and fell to his side as he grew limp. If Yuuri didn’t do something, he would not be able to revive Yuri. They would all die. He sprinted forward, heedless of the shouting behind him, of the gloved hands of the guards that tried to grab him. He pulled himself up the platform under the King’s table and rolled, ignoring the searing pain in his back as he stretched his wounds, and managed to grab Yuri’s dropped sword with his outstretched hands.

With a steadying breath and no time to think, he rose from the ground in front of the King, aimed, and struck, stabbing the sword as hard as he could upwards. He felt the sword dip beneath the King’s chestplate and catch at his sternum, the edge of the blade grating against it as it sank into his flesh.  _ A two-handed thrust through a weak joint in the armor _ , Mila had once lectured him,  _ is infinitely more effective than trying to hack through a steel-covered limb _ .

Yuuri could feel the effects of his thrust, fueled by panic and fear. He could feel as the tip of the sword bit into the King’s beating heart, could feel the tremor in his sword hilt with each pulse of the organ. The King stared down at him, mute, his eyes wide and blank with shock. His other hand closed around the blade as Yuuri pushed, trying to pull it out. Blood was dripping from his chest, along the flat side of the sword and from his hand as the edges bit into his palms.

“No...dragon…” The King sputtered, his eyes beginning to clear, the life in them far from fading. He was still very much alive.

“I’m not a dragon,” Yuuri grunted, “I’m just bonded to one.” He grit his teeth as he pressed both hands against the bottom of the sword hilt, pushing with all of his might, sweat beading on his forehead, plastering his hair to his face. Panic was spreading over him. Any minute now, the King would recover enough to remove the sword from his chest.

Yuuri wasn’t strong enough to kill him alone.

From the corner of his eye came a flash of silvery white. Warmth along his back announced that Victor had landed behind him, his wings bursting from him. He wrapped his hands around Yuuri’s on the sword hilt. Their bondmarks flared to life as their hands met, brilliant blue melding with shimmering brown, and Yuuri felt a stillness in his chest, a peace he had not known was missing. His thoughts settled and cleared.

Together, they pushed the sword straight through the King’s chest and Yuuri felt it pierce his heart completely, the meat of it finally giving under their combined strength. He saw the dark light die in the King’s reptilian eyes before he crumpled to the ground. Beside them, Yuri fell from the King’s limp hand and Victor caught him one-armed, cradling his head before it hit the floor.

It was pandemonium behind them.

Yuuri turned just in time to see Otabek transform into a dragon, his enormous black hide filling Yuuri’s vision as he spread his wings and roared. The room of soldiers with their weapons drawn were coming for them and Otabek placed himself bodily in between, blocking the onslaught.

“I think it is time we left,” Victor murmured quietly. Yuuri nodded and wrapped his trembling arms around Yuri’s unconscious body. Victor lifted them both in his arms and with a great flap of his wings, was airborne. He flew them through the double doors of the dining hall, down the stone corridor as underneath them, more soldiers pointed and shouted, some giving chase, others heading towards the scene of chaos.

Yuuri did not know where they were going, did not think Victor knew either. He was simply flying them through the maze of the fortress, trying to find a quiet spot away from the fighting. As they passed another corridor, Yuuri spotted a familiar figure and he tapped Victor’s chest.

“Wait,” he said. Victor beat his wings, changing their direction and heading back to the corridor entrance. It was Phichit, waving them towards him as he peeked out from a plain wooden door set into the wall.

“Hurry,” Phichit whispered and Victor set them on the ground, taking Yuri as they scurried through the door Phichit held open, hastily closing it behind them. The darkness of the room was slowly illuminated as Phichit lit torches lining the walls. They were in an enormous bedchamber and though it was stark and unadorned, it was not uncomfortable. The furniture scattered through the room was bare but well maintained and homely.

Victor headed straight for a large bed near the center of the room and carefully laid Yuri on it, making sure not to jostle his broken arm. Yuuri hurried after him and gingerly lifted the arm, examining it. As quickly and painlessly as he could, he pressed his palms against the broken bones, flattening them into place, wincing as Yuri awoke with a cry. He pushed feebly against Yuuri with his good hand, disoriented and panicked, until Victor took his hand and called his name, forcing him to focus.

Blinking rapidly, his expression turning stony, Yuri settled back on the bed. Yuuri was finally satisfied with the arrangement of Yuri’s arm and he laid his hands lightly on his wrist, his touch feather-light, and called to his healing powers. The familiar wind rose, blowing warmly around his ankles and legs and he closed his eyes as the bondmarks on his arms glowed and swirled, his power coursing through his hands into Yuri’s arm.

When he opened his eyes again, Yuri was gingerly flexing his wrist and fingers, a look of cautious concentration on his face. Then he smiled, his relief evident, and Yuuri couldn’t help but smile back.

“Thank you,” Yuri said and Yuuri nodded, turning to Victor. He had seen his wounds while Victor had been flying them around and though they were shallow, he was anxious to heal them, to see Victor once again whole and healthy. But Victor shook his head with a frown.

“Not until you heal yourself,” he said sternly and with a sudden wince of pain, Yuuri remembered the slashes on his back. He couldn’t see how bad they looked but the anger in Victor’s eyes told him they were not pretty. It took a few moments of concentration before Yuuri felt the skin on his back fully knit itself together again, the aching sting dissipating.

“What happened?” Phichit asked after they had all been healed and were sitting blankly on the bed. He tossed them robes from a wardrobe and they put them on over their loincloths.

“The King is dead,” Victor said simply, tying his belt and sitting back on the bed. Yuuri knew from the look on Phichit’s face that he had expected more details, more explanation, but he simply nodded.

“I expected as much,” Phichit said, “Otabek did not say it would happen tonight, but he told me to prepare this room and to be ready to direct you all here.”

“What is this place?” Yuuri asked, looking around slowly now that he had the time.

“This is Otabek’s bedroom.” Phichit replied, waving his hand around, “He had it enspelled so that only those who know the location will be able to enter. He said you would all be safest here until he can quell any dissent and establish his position. It should not take long. After all, the traditional rules of inheritance dictate the slayer become heir.”

“Yuuri slayed the King,” Victor said, a hint of pride entering his voice. He wrapped an arm around Yuuri’s waist and pulled him closer on the bed.

“We did it together,” Yuuri corrected. Phichit stared slack-jawed, his eyes darting back and forth between them.

“It was not Otabek?” he asked, his eyes widening as Yuuri shook his head. Then he laughed. “I wonder how he will spin that one.”

They stayed the rest of the night in Otabek’s room. At first, they planned and strategized, mapping out escape routes and discussing rations. Then Phichit finally asked for a recounting of the evening and they gave it, sticking to facts, not letting themselves hope for too much. When it grew late, they scattered to the many couches in Otabek’s room and used his abundance of old, squashy pillows and thick blankets to make themselves comfortable. They doused all but one of the torches, its flickering light casting the room in soft shadows.

Yuuri dozed lightly beside Victor on Otabek’s large bed, too anxious to truly sleep. Stray thoughts kept intruding into his mind, questions he couldn’t answer but couldn’t stop pondering. Was Otabek alive? What did it mean that he had not been the one to slay the King? What did it mean for him and Victor and their future together? Would they finally have peace?

Yuuri snuggled closer to Victor’s side, listening to the slow, steady beat of his heart with one ear and the muffled shouts and footsteps in the fortress with the other. Victor’s presence beside him, alive and well, was infinitely comforting and he hoped desperately that nothing would ever threaten that again. Victor’s arm bent around his shoulders, his hand rubbing a slow, comforting circle on his arm.

“Are you alright?” Victor asked, roused from sleep by Yuuri’s restless shifting.

“I’m fine,” Yuuri said immediately before he let out a breath, “Just worried about the future.”

Victor kissed him on the forehead and pulled him halfway onto his chest, wrapping both arms around his waist. “I’m not worried,” he said, “We are alive and we are together. Everything else will work itself out.”

Yuuri huffed a breath at Victor’s simplistic reasoning but he couldn’t help the smile that touched his lips. He closed his eyes and repeated it to himself in time with the steady pulse of Victor’s heartbeat.

_ Together, together, together. _

 

* * *

The soft click of the wooden door opening woke Yuuri in an instant and he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Victor sitting up beside him. The room was filled with soft hazy light, dawn having just passed them by. Otabek walked through the doorway, looking as tired as Yuuri had ever seen him, his face drawn and shadowed, his clothing torn and stained. But his eyes were smiling, and Yuuri felt a wave of relief so powerful it left him boneless as he slumped against Victor.

“It is mostly done,” Otabek said, rubbing a hand against the back of his tired neck.

“What happened?” Yuri asked from the couch where he had bunked for the night. His hair was mussed and his eyes bleary as pushed his mountain of blankets back.

“I had Seung-Gil maneuver it so that more than half the soldiers in the dining hall were on our side,” Otabek said, “We quelled the fighting as best we could, until the King’s men had calmed down enough to listen to reason.” Otabek’s explanation, like him, was succinct and bare of embellishments, downplaying the hours and the manpower that had been spent quashing the rebellion.

“And the succession?” Yuuri asked.

“Still under discussion,” Otabek said, “According to dragon law, Your Lordships would be next to lead the clan, but they are already balking at the idea of assimilating into another clan. I fear they will explode if their leader is to be human.” He paused. “But if that is your wish, I will aid you in smoothing the way.”

Yuuri didn’t need to look at Victor to know what his answer would be. He shook his head immediately. “No,” he said, “One clan of dragons is enough for me.”

Victor’s warm hand gripped his shoulder. “I have all that I want already,” he said, his breath ruffling Yuuri’s hair.

Otabek nodded. “I thought as much,” he said, “I have sent out a call for historians from all the dragon clans. Once they have convened here, I would ask that Your Lordships return to reaffirm your positions. Perhaps with the right interpretations of dragon law, the clan will accept me as leader and I can begin to right the havoc my father had wrought.”

“As King?” Victor asked.

Otabek shook his head. “The title is no more and I will not be addressed as such.”

Yuuri blinked in surprise. “What if your clan disagrees with the interpretation of the law?”

Otabek smiled. “When you live for long enough under the King’s rule, it does not take much to convince you to try another way.”

“And your clanspeople will let us go just like that?” Victor asked.

Otabek gave a short nod. “Just like that.”

Yuuri felt curiously light, strangely unmoored. The threat of the King and of war had weighed so heavily on his mind for so long that to have it disappear so suddenly was dizzying. He could see that Victor felt similarly. He had been in this battle far longer than Yuuri had and it must be strange to have the entire trajectory of his life changed in the course of a single night.

Yuuri couldn’t help but smile at Victor’s blank look of shock. When Victor caught his eye, he smiled back.

“What is it?” Victor asked.

“I do not know!” Yuuri replied with a laugh, “I guess I am just…happy.”

Victor laughed back and kissed him with a loud smack. Yuuri felt a flush spread across his face at the blatant display as he glanced around the room. Even though Yuri had a vague look of disgust on his face, Otabek and Phichit didn’t seem bothered in the slightest.

Victor stretched out a hand to Otabek and he clasped it, shaking it with a vigor that belied his calm exterior.

“Thank you,” Victor said, sincerity ringing clear in his voice.

“I take it our alliance still has your support, then?”

“Full heartedly. For as long as we have peace, you will have my support.”

Otabek nodded and shook Yuuri’s hand as well before he went to Yuri.

“You were very brave,” he said as he grasped Yuri’s hand. Yuri looked surprised and pleased, though he tried to hide it. “I could use more men like you.”

Yuuri saw a glow in Victor’s eyes as his head snapped up. He could almost see the wheels turning in Victor’s mind.

“Otabek, if we are to be true allies, we will need diplomats from each clan,” Victor said, “What do you say to Yuri coming to live at the fortress for a while? He can learn your ways and teach your people about some of ours.”

Yuuri could see from the way Yuri’s eyes shone that he desperately wanted Otabek to agree. A change of environment, to a place with plenty of dragons for Yuri to learn from and to train with, was exactly what he had always wanted. And a strong-willed dragon with immense self-control and rationalization like Otabek was exactly what Yuri needed to grow into a true clan leader. Slowly, Otabek nodded, warming to the idea.

“That would be acceptable to me, my lord.”

“Please,” Victor said with a smile, “call me Victor.” They shook hands again and made plans for the future, laying out timelines and logistics, too excited to truly flesh out their thoughts for the moment.

“What if I went to the Nikiforov clan as a diplomat as well?” Phichit asked, not bothering to hide his eagerness. Yuuri couldn’t help feeling that it was a wonderful idea. He kept his expression as neutral as he could, but both Otabek and Victor read him all too well. With a chuckle, it was agreed that when Yuri left for the fortress, Phichit would take his place.

The air was rife with proposals for the future. Ideas were bandied about and examined, anticipation and excitement high. But all Yuuri wanted to do was go home. He wanted to see his family, to make sure the clanspeople and the villagers were all in good health, to hug Makkachin. He wanted to share the tidings of peace, to make medicines and candies. He wanted to be alone with Victor in their bed, celebrating their life and their love, and their newly discovered future.

Victor must have felt the same because in almost no time at all, they went from discussing hypotheticals to Otabek ordering hampers of food and three sturdy horses to be readied to carry them down the mountain and back to the castle. Phichit bid them all farewell as he headed back to his duty as a patrol guard. The death of the King did not stop him from doing his due diligence for his clan.

It would take a few months for the other dragon clans to send their historians, Otabek informed them. There was still much to do in reshaping how other dragon clans as well as his own viewed him and each other. And even though he was not yet named as leader, he had much to do to establish himself in the position before other usurpers tried to claim it. These would keep him from sitting down with Victor to fully discuss their alliance for a while yet.

“I will send word as soon as I am sure that I can step away for a few days,” Otabek promised as they set off on the path that would lead down the mountain, “We can plan everything then.” They waved back at him as they departed.

 

* * *

“It is strange traveling this path in broad daylight without having to watch for ambushes or scout for enemy soldiers,” Victor mused after a time as they made their way along the path, “I never noticed that the view was so pleasant.”

Yuri’s horse, the most spirited of the three, picked its way down ahead of theirs. Though he kept a watchful eye, Victor seemed more than content to let Yuri have his way. Yuuri could tell that Victor’s opinion of Yuri had changed. He didn’t know if it was because he had had Victor beaten and tied up, or because he had done his best to kill the King. Whatever it was, Yuuri was glad for it. Independence would only help Yuri grow.

“I think I would like to open the clan to the world,” Victor said suddenly, breaking the peaceful stillness of their journey, “With the increase in skill and labor from your villagers and the King gone, there will be no need for us to be as circumspect in our dealings with other clans.”

Yuuri nodded in agreement. “We could do a roaring trade in blacksmithing and agriculture. And I can help more people heal.”

Victor smiled. “I was afraid you would disagree.”

“Why?”

“Powerful, ruthless people always seem to be interested in taking your abilities for themselves,” Victor said, “Myself included.”

Yuuri glanced at Victor but he avoided Yuuri’s eyes, looking steadily ahead, a small wrinkle between his brows.

“Do you regret any of this?” Victor asked quietly, his voice breaking through the silence that had fallen over them. Yuuri stopped his immediate denial and thought hard, running through everything in his mind from his first meeting with Victor to their current ride down the mountain.

“No,” he said truthfully and Victor met his gaze, hope shining in his eyes, “I don’t regret anything. Not agreeing to be bonded to you, or falling in love with you. I don’t even regret killing the King because it all led to this; to bringing peace to your people and mine, and to being able to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Victor’s smile almost blinded him with its intensity and Yuuri couldn’t help but slow his horse down so he could lean over and press a kiss to Victor’s lips. He responded eagerly, his lips warm and soft, nibbling playfully at Yuuri’s until they were clinging breathlessly to each other. Yuuri wished they were home already so they could explore the promises in that kiss.

“I just thought of something I do regret,” Yuuri murmured, pitching his voice low, his hand stroking Victor’s cheek.

“What is it?”

“I regret that I never saw the sea. When I turned back from the clan’s escape to the Baranovskaya clan, we were not close enough for me to see it.”

Victor smiled. “And my one regret is that we did not get to be alone together, just you and me, after we were bonded.”

“Perhaps we should combine the two,” Yuuri suggested.

“Perhaps we should,” Victor agreed affably. They smiled secretly at each other and started down the mountain pass again, riding their horses close enough to occasionally brush their knees together. Each contact sent a thrill up Yuuri’s spine, scattering his thoughts. He could see from the feline grin on Victor’s face that it was deliberate teasing on his part, and he wanted to repay him in kind.

“Victor?” he drawled.

“Yes, my love?”

“Do you remember when we made love in the forest?”

Victor coughed in surprise and Yuuri could almost see his dragon-half raise his head, his ears perking, eyes dancing with interest. “You mean where I—”

“Yes.”

“I remember.” Victor’s voice was almost a croak.

“I think we should do that again when we visit the sea.”

Yuuri smiled and bit his lip as Victor swallowed loudly, a flush spreading across his cheeks. It took him a few long seconds to respond. “I would like that,” he managed to whisper, his voice hoarse, sending Yuuri a heated glance full of promise.

Yuuri batted his eyelashes at him. “I think about it a lot,” he confessed innocently, wanting to push Victor further, “Do you?”

Victor groaned an expletive under his breath, digging through a saddle bag for his water skin. “At this rate, we will not be home for another two days. If you are not careful, I will toss you onto a rock and ravish you.”

“Maybe that is exactly what I want.”

Victor choked on his mouthful of water, a thin stream dribbled down his chin, unheeded. “But what about Yuri?” he gasped.

Yuuri shrugged. “I think we could fight him off if he attacks us.”

“I might really turn into a mindless decorative ornament if he hits me on the head with enough force,” Victor mused.

“He is quite far ahead,” Yuuri said smiling, “and I am not sure about you, but I know I can be quiet.”

“If that a challenge I hear?”

“Maybe,” Yuuri purred, drawing out the last syllable and sending Victor a sideways glance, satisfaction coursing through him when he was rewarded with a shiver.

Growling low in his throat, Victor reached over and effortlessly plucked Yuuri from his horse, settling him on his lap and dipping his head for a long, open-mouthed kiss that left them both breathless.

“Are you sure about this?” Victor whispered against his lips. Yuuri knew he wasn’t just asking about their plan for a tryst, but he nodded all the same. He had never been more sure about anything in his life.

“As long as you are sure, too?” Yuuri whispered back, the thinnest thread of doubt giving him pause. His hands had already slid underneath Victor’s shirt, over his firm, muscled torso, but he held them still as he waited. Victor sucked in a breath, looking rattled, before he smiled and ducked his head for another kiss.

“I am always sure about being with you.”

Yuuri smiled, happiness making him lightheaded, an answering sparkle in Victor’s eyes. He knew then, with absolute certainty, that with a dragon like Victor as his mate, he would be accepted, challenged, loved.

And he would always, always be treasured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnd done!
> 
> To anyone who read even a single line of this fic, THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! („ಡωಡ„) I'm super excited to have a completed multi-chapter fic haha. And my first Victuuri fic at that ( ´ ▽ ` )
> 
> I just realized as I was posting this last chapter that I never said where the title is from! The full saying is: "For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also" (Matthew 6:21). I thought it fit really well <(￣︶￣)>
> 
> Again, thank you so, so much for reading!!! It's been a real pleasure posting this fic and seeing the (hilarious) reactions. And thank you especially to anyone who commented or clicked Kudos or told their friends about it! I'm extremely grateful to all of you (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡
> 
>  
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> 
> P.S. To anyone wondering about my anonymity... ┬┴┬┴┤･ω･)  
> I'm realizing that it must seem odd to be anonymous on a long fic like this lol. Please don't think I'm ashamed of what I've written or that I'm afraid of backlash! In fact, I am incredibly proud of this fic and I'm happy to share it with everyone. It's purely a selfish decision on my part XD
> 
> I'm just about done with a pretty stressful project so I'm really enjoying being on my own timeline and only taking into consideration my own opinions. It means I can finally do things entirely for myself (like write a 14 chapter fic with dragon sex) without any pressure or expectations (good or bad) from anyone who is not me (*¯︶¯*)
> 
> I hate to let it go because it's really just so comfortable, but it does seem silly to remain anonymous forever... So I'm going to de-anon when my Victuuri fics outnumber my non-Victuuri fics hehe ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ Is that an arbitrary goal? Absolutely. But what's life without whimsy?
> 
> Anyway, hope to see some familiar faces when that happens! I'm also experimenting with writing my next 2 fics simultaneously so...wish me (and my poor beta) luck... (ಥ﹏ಥ)


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